Reign Over Tevinter
by SkoomaBee
Summary: FINISHED! Someone from Fenris' past goes to him in Kirkwall needing his help. Despite his past with betrayal, he can't find it in him to turn this woman down. FenrisxF!OC. A lot of angst, slow buildup. AU.
1. Disruption

**Author's Note:**

**This takes place two years before Anders blows up the Chantry, and one year after Fenris meets Varania. Rightfully at this point Fenris should have been on the run for ten years, but I don't see how the game happens in clumps instead of a steady rhythm of events. So for the sake of keeping Fenris the age I think he is, I'm going to pretend that we aren't quite yet to Act III, but Fenris has already met Varania.**

**David Gaider explicitly stated that Fenris was not married, just to clear that up.**

**Bioware owns everything except my characters (Astoria, Lysander, and more to come).**

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><p>Fenris swirled the remainder of the wine around in the bottom of his bottle, listening to the liquid splash inside the glass and how it compared to the crackling hearth in the main hall of the mansion. All was quiet in Hightown, but Fenris remained inside, in the dark and expansive mansion. It was always dark in here, even when the hot sun beat mercilessly down into Kirkwall. Fenris stared stolidly at the fire. Just as he was about to move to toss another log on the fire, he heard the knocking.<p>

He furrowed his brow at the anxious pounding on the door and put the half-emptied bottle of wine on the table. He reached for his great sword and stalked towards the entrance like a wolf preparing to attack. It was such a simple thing, but it threw his world into chaos.

No one knocked at his mansion. He kept a key hidden and only Hawke, Varric and Aveline knew where it was. He didn't trust Isabela knowing where the key was – because he knew that she'd visit him at all odd hours, and he wasn't ready for that. The only regular visitor he had otherwise was Donnic, and he knew when to expect him. This wasn't their diamondback night.

So the knocking made him tense and send thousands of panicked thoughts through his mind. He had hardly remembered that Danarius was dead, and so was Hadriana. He could stop running, stop scaring at every unexpected noise and touch. This wasn't his mansion anyway. Whoever was knocking wasn't looking for him.

He gripped the handle tightly and opened the door a fraction, peeking out with his sword ready. It was the middle of the day, and many people walked by, enjoying Hightown's streets and oblivious to the tension.

Whatever he had expected to see at the door, it was not a young woman of his own age. A human woman, a pretty woman, though she looked worn and tired. Brown curls hung down across her shoulders, some of it tied up to reveal bright blue eyes framed with thick lashes and fair skin. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him, and Fenris saw her eyes tearing up. Two long daggers hung from her hips, but she made no move to to touch them.

She looked familiar, a thought that rooted itself uncomfortably in the forefront of his mind. He had seen her before, he was sure of it, thousands of times before. But who was she? He had no idea.

"L-Leto?" She asked tentatively, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. Fenris tensed, scowling immediately. He knew what Leto meant, that it was his name from before. His real name. But this was not his sister, and she could not be his mother, she looked younger than he and she was human. And he presumed that he didn't have another sister. "Oh, Maker, it is you!"

She lunged for him, or so he thought. Really she was stepping forward to wrap him in her arms, but the movement was unexpected, and Fenris reacted the way he normally would. His instinct told him that she was attacking him.

In an instant, he was glowing. In one fluid movement, he took her by the throat before she reached him, kicked the door shut and pushed her to the ground, straddling her stomach.

"Who sent you?" He hissed.

The woman gasped and sputtered, her hands fumbling to remove his hand from her neck, to no avail.

"L-Leto-" she could hardly say, and Fenris realized he needed to let off her throat. He loosened his grip, still scowling.

"Who are you? Who sent you?"

"Astoria," the woman gasped after a hoarse and desperate cough, "and I was told not to tell you who sent me."

He lifted her head up by the throat and slammed it back down into the floor, making her skull bounce off the stone. She yelped in pain, eyes tightly shut as hot tears pricked at their edges. "Who sent you?" He growled again.

"Varania," she gasped, her eyes wide in fear. Fenris went dizzy for a brief moment.

"What?" He shouted. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

She was trembling underneath him, choking as sobs racked her body and she held her palms out to him in surrender. "P-please, Leto-"

He loosened his grip again, his fingers only resting around her throat, not gripping, no pressure. His lyrium pulsed painfully bright. He readied himself to tear her heart out, his breathing ragged.

"Do you remember me?" She asked him, her voice overflowing with sorrow and pain. She looked like she was trying to sink into the stone floor. "No, of course you don't, you wouldn't try to k- to kill me."

"Who are you to me?" He hissed, leaning forward to bring his face closer to hers. "Why do you call me that?"

"I-I'm... your wife, Leto."

His expression changed from rage to sheer shock and disbelief, and he withdrew his hand and scrambled off her like she had physically burned him. He grabbed his sword from the ground and pointed it at her neck while he stood above her, struggling desperately to steady his emotions as he trembled.

"You lie," he sneered. "Varania would have told me in her letters!"

"No," Astoria disagreed, eyes wide and voice forcibly level, "she didn't want to tell you. _We_ didn't want to tell you," she amended, "in case you had your own family now. We didn't want to ruin it for you -" He took a step over her and she withdrew, panic stricken across her face. "L-Leto, please, let me explain! I know you don't remember me."

Fenris growled deep in his throat while he contemplated his options.

"Danarius is dead. You have my word this is not a trap."

How did she know that? Fenris grimaced before letting his sword fall and crouching down, ripping her daggers from her belt before nodding towards the room past the entryway. "Very well." He held both daggers in one hand and retrieved his sword with the other, stalking close behind Astoria as she retreated into the room he had said.

He nodded towards a chair near the fireplace and Astoria sat in it, her expression one of horror and fear, her neck bruised with pricks of blood dripping down it. Fenris couldn't look at her.

Something unpleasant wormed its way in his stomach as he stood, leaning against the wooden table near the chair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the tabletop.

"I have many questions. So... first, how did you find me?"

Astoria looked to be on the verge of tears again. "I've been in touch with Varania. She and I were good friends when you and I were..." she choked back a sob and Fenris arched an eyebrow, "... together. When she told me that you had contacted her... it took everything I had not to take off and find you myself. She told me eventually that you were going to meet her at The Hanged Man, here in Kirkwall. So I came here once she had met with you, and I met your friend Varric today. Supposedly he had been with you when you met Varania, so she recognized him. He told me where to find you. Please don't be mad at him, I threatened him to make him tell me."

Fenris was quiet for a moment, mulling over these thoughts. Digging the tips of his gauntlets into the wood he asked, "You threatened Varric?"

"I'm sorry." She added with a solemn nod.

He would have scoffed if the situation were not so tense. Varric may joke around, but he did not take kindly to threats, and he must have believed this woman to point her in Fenris' direction instead of unleashing Bianca on her. That gave him reason to continue interrogating her instead of murdering her, like he wanted to do.

"So you helped Varania lead me into a trap with Danarius?" The accusation flew from Fenris' lips with bitter intensity.

Horror played across her face so clearly that it looked like she had been slapped. "What? No, I... oh, Maker, Leto, this is difficult." She rubbed her temples and sighed. "I would never have turned you willingly over to that bastard, and neither would Varania." Fenris scowled and made a move towards Astoria, about to argue, but she continued, panicked. "I – I know it sounds crazy, but listen, please. Danarius used Varania, taking her as an apprentice. He used her to lure you, Leto. She never wanted to. And she never told me that Danarius would be at the Hanged Man, I didn't think that he knew you would be there."

"You were both fools."

Astoria hung her head but said nothing.

Fenris swallowed, blinking several times before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, finally feeling himself start to calm. "So you are... friends with my sister, and she helped you find me, but didn't tell me about you. Why?"

"Like I said, Leto-"

"Fenris." He said. Seeing her confused expression he added harshly. "It's Fenris, not Leto."

"I... I'm sorry." Her eyes shut tightly as a single tear accrued on the corner of her eye, but she brushed it away quickly and steepled her fingers in her lap. "Like I said, Varania and I didn't want to ruin your life anymore. If you had a family now, a new wife, children... I couldn't take that away from you. That'd be an awful and awkward situation."

Fenris rubbed his chin, and then glanced at Astoria. "I'm sorry I hurt you." He said shamefully. "Are you alright?"

A delicate hand went to her throat as she pushed down against it with her fingertips. "I'll live."

Guilt welled inside him for attacking to near-death an innocent woman, a woman who claimed to be his wife.

"I can bring you to a healer."

"No, I'll be fine." She waved her hand.

A long and uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Fenris looked to her daggers that he had laid on the table. They were steel with beautifully carved handles, the carvings resembling trees. They looked elven, Dalish even.

"Are you a slave as well?" He asked without even realizing it. "An escaped slave, I mean."

Astoria shook her head, searching him tentatively. "When you freed your mother and sister, you freed me as well, though Varania did not tell you that."

So there it was. More evidence that she was truthful. Fenris teetered on the brink of consciousness as the edges of his vision seemed to blur and blacken occasionally, while he slowly registered this piece-by-piece. Varania would have had to tell her for her to know that. This woman couldn't be fabricating everything, could she?

"And that is how we met?"

Astoria nodded slowly. "I was captured by slavers and brought to Master Mavion when you were fifteen. I was fifteen as well, and you immediately took to me. You taught me everything about that lifestyle. You were my rock. We fell in love eventually, as young as we were, and we remained together. We were very mature." Fenris glanced at her as she spoke of some memory that he could not recall, and saw that her face did not betray her. He wished he could remember this, some romance that he never thought could have happened. He felt guilty even, if she were telling the truth, that he couldn't remember.

"And then," she began, her voice far away and sorrowful as her blue eyes found the fire and lingered on the flames, "when you were eighteen, you offered yourself in that competition to get those... markings, to free the three of us. I wanted to stay with you, to follow you, but you spoke with Danarius and he told you what life would be in store for me if I were to come along. He told you that I would have to be a slave. You wouldn't let me come with you, you said that I needed to be free."

So this would mean that Fenris was now twenty-seven. He had never known how old he was, and he suddenly felt older than he would have imagined he was. He remembered serving Danarius for two years, and then being on the run for seven years now. "You've been looking for me all this time?"

"I lived with your mother and sister for those two years that you served Danarius, and then he showed up at our home looking for you. Obviously, you had no idea we existed, but when I found out that you were free, I started looking." Astoria sagged into the chair, not moving her eyes from the flames. Fenris blinked, unsure if his head was going to explode.

He analyzed everything she said, every movement of her eyes and fidgeting of her fingers, to find a hint of a lie in her words. But she seemed truthful, and part of him actually wanted to believe her. Having no past, no remembered past anyway, was a difficult burden to bear, though he had acclimated to such. He wanted to know this whole time if he had had a family. And then he met Varania and had regretted that wish.

"Why keep looking?"

Her gaze shifted to his then, and the intense look she gave him made him briefly reconsider his question. "I am not expecting you to come run off into the sunset with me, Le- … Fenris. But. Ah, Maker's breath," she dropped her head in her hands and reconsidered her words, her shoulders heaving.

"But what?" His voice conveyed a panicked tone, more than he had wanted it to.

"We... we have a son, Fenris." She looked up at him, measuring his reaction.

It felt like a physical blow. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, jade eyes darting to hers. "What?"

"I-I'm sorry." She sounded truly genuine, he had to admit.

"How is that possible? He'd be..."

"He's nine years old." She finished for him solemnly, hands folded in her lap. "I only found out that I was pregnant just after you went with Danarius to get those," she gestured towards his markings. "You had black hair then." She added this in a far away tone, as if she had forgotten he was there.

He furrowed his brow, but could scarcely do more than try to comprehend. Then he regarded her harshly and demanded, "And where is this child now?"

She flinched like she had been slapped, and Fenris realized how much his choice of words would sting if in fact, she was telling the truth.

"He's been... taken, by a magister. Two years ago. Actually it was when Varania had heard from you for the first time, she was already working with Danarius, so he must have known about the letter. The magister, the other one, invaded our home and ripped him from me. I should have seen the connection then. I imagine that one of Danarius' colleagues took him as collateral, in case... you know, in case you killed Danarius. I didn't see it then, I thought they were unrelated."

Fenris thought he was going to self-destruct, just by hearing the words and what they implied. Why did they hound him so relentlessly? "And you expect me to save him?" She didn't nod or respond, and he felt himself trembling. "Can you prove that you are who you say you are?"

"Yes. I have a letter from Varania. She was going to mail it to you, but then decided she didn't want you to know about me just yet. I'm surprised. You couldn't read when I knew you. I'm proud of what you've done."

Fenris swallowed hard, finding that he could not grasp his voice or the words to go with it. No one had said that they were proud of him, except when he had killed the Fog Warriors. But this was different.

So she knew that he shouldn't be able to read. She knew more about his past than he did, it seemed. Her timing was right – she knew that he had been running for seven years, served Danarius for two years prior to that. She knew that Danarius was dead. She knew Varania.

Fenris couldn't find any words, so he fell into an armchair and gazed distantly at the fire. A long time passed before he saw Astoria shift in her seat and his gaze flickered to her. She looked so sad, so tired.

The firelight danced on her beautiful face and Fenris had so many questions, but couldn't bring himself to ask them at the moment. He watched her large blue eyes turn, uncomfortable from his piercing gaze, to the fire. She didn't look to be breathing for some time, her slender fingers playing with the leather on her trousers.

A knock came upon the door, startling Astoria, but Fenris remained seated in the chair, unmoving. A key was being wiggled in the door, and after a quick couple seconds, the door opened.

Fenris glared at the doorway as Varric stepped in, face serious for a change. He looked anxious.

"Oh good. I was worried Broody would have killed you."

"Broody?" Astoria asked him as he shut the door behind him and stepped closer to them. Confusion left her face after a moment. "You mean Le... oh, Maker, sorry. Fenris."

Varric nodded, turning to look at Fenris, who was scowling. "Beautiful here wanted me to bring you these, in case you did kill her." Varric pulled out a small stack of vellum wrapped in thin leather. Fenris glanced at Astoria, brow furrowed and lips curled down.

"You were_ expecting _me to attack you?" It was disappointing for no one to have any faith in him, not that he felt he would deserve it.

"She wasn't," Varric interjected, "I was, however. And it looks like you did." Varric made a point to look at Astoria's neck. "Maker's breath, Fenris, take her to see Blondie."

"I'm fine," Astoria said, glancing apprehensively between the papers and the men.

"What is this?" Fenris asked as Varric dropped the stack into his lap, eyeing the stack.

"Your proof." Astoria answered, tensing in her seat. Fenris mirrored this subconsciously, and held the stack between his hands. "Varric and I thought it would be a good idea to give that to you after you've slaughtered me and calmed down," she said bitterly, "because he knows you better than I do at this point, and said that you'd destroy the papers in the heat of the moment."

Fenris glared at Varric, though he knew the dwarf was probably right.

"Do you believe her?" Fenris asked.

The dwarf knitted his brow in worry, glancing at the stack. "Absolutely." Varric turned to Astoria and said under his breath, "Did you tell him about Lysander?"

Astoria nodded, a small movement, but Fenris caught the interaction. "Lysander?"

Her blue eyes found his and it seemed to sting her painfully. "Our son."

He liked the name. This thought made Fenris pause as he turned the stack over in his hands cautiously, not wanting to open it yet. Of course he liked the name. She would know him well enough to name her son a name that he liked, right?

But it was a strange name, even he had to admit. Astoria caught his curious eye and spoke softly.

"It means 'he who is freed.'" She explained, her voice calm and warm, like a summer evening. Fenris looked up at her through his white hair. "Your mother chose it."

He felt something in his stomach churn. All he knew of his mother was that he must have loved her enough to fight for her freedom, and that she was now dead.

Varric was watching the interaction with enough focus and scrutiny to possibly fry an egg under his gaze. It was so uncharacteristic of him that it almost made Fenris scoff, but he couldn't.

"What proof is in here, specifically?" His voice cut through the dim room, half a plea.

Astoria rubbed her brow, her shoulders drooping. "The letter from Varania is in there. Lysander's documents are there, as well as your own – about your births."

Fenris' breath hitched in his throat. Astoria gave him a polite smile, a forced one, before she continued. "There is a letter from your mother, it was translated though since she could not write, and drawings of you and I many years ago that your sister drew. She is quite the artist, actually, along with her other talents."

Fenris was quiet for a few moments, his thoughts racing, before gently pulling the rawhide strap binding the thin leather. The straps fell and he pulled back the wrapping, before turning towards Astoria.

"How did we get married if we were slaves?"

"Your mother performed this Elven Marriage ritual for us. It was beautiful, though we had to do it in secret in the middle of the night. We can pretend it never happened, if you wish, and I can go my own way." She frowned, and something about her expression told Fenris that this caused her great pain.

Fenris furrowed his brow. He looked to Varric who was standing there awkwardly. "Uh, Varric-"

But Varric was already ducking out and heading for the door. "I'm on it, Broody. Listen, good luck. Astoria, let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Varric. It was lovely to see you."

"You too, Beautiful."

The door clicked shut and Fenris sighed, the weight of the situation nearly suffocating him. "If we can pretend it never happened, then it isn't binding?"

Astoria sadly shook her head. "The elves are so rarely allowed to have anything, let alone a binding marriage. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, I know that you see me as a stranger, but... whether or not you are the man I loved," he noted that she did not say 'love,' though it was possibly to keep him from panicking, "you deserve to know your child. If you wish to, of course."

Fenris studied the vellum in his lap; stacks of sheets each folded like individual presents. He wondered what the top one was, his fingertips brushing the material. "And if I wanted nothing to do with him?"

She kept her face stoic, his clear harshness seeming to have no effect on her. "Then I would go find him myself, if I have to burn all of Tevinter down in my path. Without your help." She nodded at the end.

Fenris' fingers curled, as if he were going to ball a fist but he caught himself and unfolded the top piece of vellum, tilting it towards the firelight. Astoria gazed at him intently as he began to read the loopy, feminine handwriting.

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><p><em>Leto,<em>

_ As I have said in my last letter, I am so pleased that you are alive. Now that we know that you've lost your memory, I'm not angry with you anymore. I had hoped that when you would escape Danarius that you would come to us, meet your son and see your wife again. You would have come to see us immediately, I suppose, if you could remember. Lysander looks just like you. He's seven now. Same dark hair, same bright jade eyes. He fights too – Astoria taught him. When they spar, he gets the same look on his face that you used to get when you'd get mad at me or when you'd concentrate on something._

_ I've agreed to be Danarius' apprentice. With Mother dead, I have little else to do here in Tevinter unless I wish to be a slave again. And I'm not going to throw your sacrifice away. If you do end up back here and with Danarius, I will try to watch over you. I know that won't come across the way I want it to, and I'm sorry. I was never very good with words. That was you._

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><p>Fenris looked up. Astoria was holding her fingers on her lips, watching him carefully, almost looking scared. She cleared her throat.<p>

"She didn't finish it," Fenris said, trying to keep calm.

"She didn't want you to think she was still mad at you. And," Astoria gestured vaguely, "we decided that it be best not to throw a wife and kid in your face through a letter."

Fenris nodded. This situation was starting to make sense to him, and something about that bothered him. Warily, he gazed at the letter. Her writing was the same as he remembered from her letters to him, though at the time he had had Hawke read them for him.

He carefully, delicately folded the letter and put it on the table beside him and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to steady his breath. Astoria didn't take her eyes off him.

He had a child. He couldn't keep the thought from invading his mind, blaring and screaming at him. He wondered if this was some cruel joke, or some terrible dream where he'd wake up in his lonely bed in his lonely and disgusting mansion, and spend his day assisting Hawke on pointless errands.

When he glanced at Astoria sitting across from him, he realized that he had slept with her, if this were the case. He hadn't known that he had had sex before, or made love rather, and he wondered what it had been like. What was she like? If he had loved her once... Fenris had no idea what he was like back then. Was he agreeable? Loud? Playful? Everything he wasn't today?

He dropped his hand back to the stack of sheets and carefully opened the next piece of vellum. It was a simple sheet, documenting Lysander's name, physical features and mother's name (signed). Beside the father's name, there was nothing. He was born on the 20th of September, 9:26 Dragon. It was signed by a city councilor in Minrathous, stamped with the city's logo.

The next was his own certificate of birth. He didn't mean to sharply inhale when he saw his name written in clear print: Leto, first born son of Sharna. Race: elf. Eyes: green. Hair: black. Date of birth: 1st of May, 9:08 Dragon. City of birth: Seheron. It was also signed the city councillor, though a different one with the Seheron logo.

Fenris felt his heart clench as he put the sheet down on top of his son's, feeling almost too sick to breathe. So his mother's name was Sharna. He really was from Seheron. His birthday was coming up in just over a month, and he hadn't even known.

Fenris leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, trying to breathe and keep from passing out or vomiting. He wasn't sure which he would do.

And then Astoria was out of the seat, and Fenris felt a panic rush through him. He had to sit up, be able to defend himself in case she turned on him. But she grabbed an empty bowl on the table and held it out it to him. His shoulders shook and he wretched into the bowl and Astoria stood beside him, vigilant but out of reach, as if sensing his discomfort with proximity.

He stood up and disposed of the bowl and its contents outside, leaving Astoria in the dilapidated, huge mansion by herself only for a moment. When he came back inside he nodded to her.

"I'm sorry to put this on you, L- Fenris." She took a breath and stepped away from him as he headed back towards his seat. "I know this must be incredibly difficult."

Fenris grunted an incoherent reply and collapsed back into the chair, rubbing his forehead, pushing some white hair out of his eyes. He cleared his throat and lifted the next sheet, unsure if he would be able to stomach whatever it was.

This one was a drawing done in black and white, and Fenris studied it for several minutes. It was of a male elf and a female human. It only took him a moment to realize it was him and Astoria.

In the drawing, he was laying down on the grass, on his back. His head, crowned in dark hair, rested in her lap as she sat against a tree with her legs out straight. One arm was thrown over his head, palm against her leg as her fingers on one hand ran through his hair, while her other palm rested on his chest. The woman had a flower in her hair, tucked behind her ear.

They wore awful clothes, practically hanging off them in shreds. They were so thin as well, Fenris found it hard to believe that he had looked so famished at one point. He had no markings, and it looked strange on him. Astoria looked similar in the drawing – beautiful, young, but also famished. She looked softer as well, more naïve and less mature than she did now. Not determined.

They both were smiling, laughing even, looking lovingly at each other with such adoration it almost made Fenris sick again.

Fenris looked up from the drawing, embarrassed with how soft it made him seem. "Varania drew this?"

The slightest smile tugged at Astoria's lips, but she didn't let it bloom. "She would always sit somewhere and draw us, draw what she saw."

"Well..." Fenris began, clearing his throat and putting the drawing down gently, "if I had killed you, I suppose I'd feel terrible about it now, looking at this."

It was a dry attempt at a joke, but Astoria made a sound in her throat, eyes wide. Fenris looked at the drawing again where it lay on the table. Had he really been like that once? So animated, so... happy?

"Which one is the letter from my mother?"

"The bottom one," Astoria answered softly. He realized it must sound rude to her, to want to pass through the rest of the pictures, but he wanted to look at them later and in private when no one was watching his facial expression like a hawk. "It's very intense."

Intense he could do, usually. But sentimental was another deal, and he felt wary.

Fenris removed the rest of the stack except for the last letter, which was not folded in individual sheets but all together. There were about ten other drawings that had made up the rest of the stack, but he set them aside and considered opening his mother's letter.

"Would you like some wine?" He asked, turning the letter over in his hands, glancing up at Astoria.

A wave of relief seemed to hit her and she nodded fervently. "Please."

He stood and went to the cellar, grabbing a bottle and two dusty wineglasses, blowing the dust from them and going back to the main room. Astoria's hand flew from her face, and he realized she may have been crying in his absence, but he said nothing and poured them both a glass.

When he sat back down he sighed, feeling a throbbing headache coming on. He opened the letter slowly and began to read.

* * *

><p><em>My dear Leto,<em>

_ I'm afraid I do not know where to begin. Every day I pray that you will show up at our door and we'll all run away together. I'm sick now, and so I'm having Astoria write this for me, because I fear that I will not be seeing you before my time._

_ Oh Leto, I wish you were here with us now. Astoria was with child when you left, I wish you could see him now. He's full of fire and life, so much like you were. Astoria tells him stories about you when she puts him to sleep. Varania says it is because you're boring – but she secretly knows nothing could be further from the truth. You two were the sun and the moon, and such a delight._

_ She doesn't always know how much you love her, but Varania loves you just as much. I know you two would never admit it between all of your bickering, but you do love each other. She cries herself to sleep sometimes over everything – over the boon you had when you won that competition. We feel guilty, my dear Leto, I never would have wanted you to sign yourself over to that have given us the greatest gift of all, but for me it is not a gift._

_ I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but losing you has been the most difficult thing to have ever gone through. Instead of hearing you and your sister bickering, something I miss terribly now, I see Astoria and Varania comforting each other on dark and silent nights. Instead of seeing you playing pranks on us and sneaking flowers from the gardens to put in Astoria's hair, or wine bottles from master Mavion's cellar, I see a miniature version of you who I can tell will do the same things when he is older because he is so much like his father. He looks so much like you it makes me laugh and cry and sometimes I cannot stand it._

_ I don't know when or if you'll ever get this letter. Currently we live in a barn in the Tevinter countryside, while I look after my perfect grandson, while Varania and Astoria help the farmers. They do an amazing job taking care of me with my illness, and everyday I think of how lucky I am to have them in my life, but always missing you. Your absence is like a hole in our hearts. I want you to stay the sweet and wonderful man you have grown to be. I want more than anything for you to be happy, Leto. I never told you this, but Leto means 'he who is always happy'. Be always happy, my dear Leto._

_ I love you._

* * *

><p>Fenris's hands were shaking when he dropped the letter and his vision blurred, but he had no tears. He reached for his wineglass and drank from it, nearly emptying its contents. He wanted to fill the silence, but he couldn't think of anything to say. The cackling of the fire seemed intrusive, sucking the air out of the room and leaving him with a barrage of thoughts, circling his sanity.<p>

He was convinced now, that Astoria was telling the truth. The realization washed over him and he dropped his head in his hands. He had nearly killed his wife today. He had nearly taken Isabela up on her offers recently, wondering what bad could come of it, and suddenly he was glad that he hadn't.

He had a child out there who was taken by a magister. He imagined what this encounter looked like. By then his mother had died, and Varania was working with Danarius, meaning Astoria was on her own with Lysander.

When he looked up at Astoria he saw that she was crying, silently, watching him. She knew what it said, it was obvious, she had written it, written his mother's thoughts.

"I have a question," he began, tapping his gauntleted fingers against the armrest, "Why didn't the magister kill you when he came for your son? And I guess, why didn't he take you as well?"

"I think it was a big plan, to get me to find you. They wanted me to lead you back to Tevinter, I think. To get your help to claim revenge. About a year before you met Varania, they came for Lysander – a different magister. I'm sure Danarius told him about our child. To them, your markings are valuable. They would kidnap a child to get you back."

Her voice was heavy with sorrow, like saying the words pained her. Fenris groaned quietly though he felt like screaming. This was all an elaborate plan, a trap, and she knew it, but she seemed desperate.

Astoria stood, her glass of wine empty. "I'll leave, Fenris. Give you space to think."

He shot her a look and nodded slowly. "Where are you staying?"

"The Hanged Man."

His wife, though he couldn't think of her that way, was staying at that filthy place, of all places. His mansion wasn't much better, but it didn't have any STD's on the surfaces, and that was surely a step up. Still, he couldn't offer it. He nodded and stood, waving to her daggers as he reached for his own sword and strapped it to his back.

"I'll walk you there. It isn't safe."

She didn't argue, and they stepped out together into the warm spring evening, both forever changed. Kirkwall loomed all around them, imposing and suddenly not feeling at all like home.


	2. Drawings

Fenris was always thinking, always planning and making up scenarios in his head. He would never be caught off guard if he could help it. He was always planning an escape, but stayed in Kirkwall originally to repay Hawke for saving his life and helping him finally lose the people who chased him. Not only that, but following Hawke gave him a purpose, something to do because, what else would he do otherwise?

But dread crept up on him as he walked silently beside Astoria, leading her to the Hanged Man under the warm and heavy spring evening. He didn't wonder what he would do if he had remembered, if his memory had never been erased. That was simple. He would have been dutiful. If that drawing of them together had meant anything, if it had conveyed real feelings that he had had at a time, he would have gone back to his family and they would have fled the Imperium together.

But he couldn't remember, and that changed everything. Suddenly there were strings attached, for the first time since he could remember, bonds from a past life, and his instinct was to run like he always had. To run away from this woman and the city and never bother to contact her or Varric, since he seemed to be on her side.

But he couldn't ignore this. Exactly in the way that he couldn't ignore Hadriana when she offered him information in turn for her life. Exactly in the way he hadn't been able to ignore the idea that that chest, in that hovel in the alienage, held information about his family.

This was where he knew his instinct failed. He so desperately, shamefully and secretly wanted to know of his life before, that all else fell second to it, that even his need for survival would stumble in its wake. It was the cruelest thing that Danarius had ever done to him – ridding him of his memories, and it was the thing that Fenris wanted the most.

He spared a sidelong glance at the woman beside him as they approached Varric's home. She walked swiftly but with a certain grace, her shoulders tense and eyes alert. Something in her eyes was haunting and sorrowful, and Fenris recognized it – but not in a specific memory. That's how Hawke looked when Bethany died. That's how people looked when the Void ripped through them in an all-devouring hunger and they were left less a person and more a shell. But her brow was set and she was determined - and that was unlike the other slaves and other people who were overcome with grief. She wanted vengeance.

The Hanged Man was bustling and busy and filthy, like always. Varric sat at a round table with the abomination. Fenris turned to duck out quickly, but Varric was waving him and Astoria over.

Fenris followed Astoria to the table, and he noticed Anders staring at her neck.

"Do... do you need healing?" He asked, leaning forward on his elbows to get a better view of her.

"I'm alright," she answered softly, "thank you."

"No, you aren't." Anders got out of his seat and stepped towards her, while Fenris scowled beside them. Anders put his hands up, turning his head to assess the damage, before letting his palms rest gently on either side of her neck.

His palms began glowing blue and Astoria inhaled sharply as the healing magic seeped into her skin. Anders turned to Fenris and glared accusingly.

"What are you, some kind of wild dog where you go around strangling innocent women?"

Fenris scowled, stepping towards the two of them. "And what of that innocent woman you almost killed?"

Anders shook his head, steeling himself and looking back at Astoria. This was not the time for a fight. "He's a git. I don't see how you could have married him."

"You know?" Fenris was on the verge of phasing. It certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd wanted to do that to Anders.

"Of course I know, I was here when she was here earlier. I knew I should have gone with you." He was looking back at Astoria now. "I thought you needed a bodyguard."

Fenris rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but Varric called out to him.

"Broody, I'm going to stop by tomorrow," he shouted as Fenris stalked to the door, fuming.

Astoria sat beside the dwarf, with Anders on his other side, and dropped her head in her hands.

"He's not going to help me," she sighed.

Varric put a comforting hand on her shoulder and laughed. "He'll come around. Hawke and I are gonna have a chat with him."

"He's a different person now." She said, defeated, her hands absentmindedly moving to her neck, fingers running along the soft skin. "Thank you, Anders."

He shook his head with a frown. "I can't imagine Fenris being anything better than he is now."

Astoria's eyes grew sad as she stared at the table. "He was."

Fenris slammed the door shut to his mansion and sighed, running a hand through his snowy hair as he ran up to the room with the wine and "proof."

That night he read the letter from his mother three more times, reading it slower each time, trying to glean everything from it that he could about his past life.

When the wine was finished, he stared at the stack of drawings apprehensively. He worried that they would convince him to help her. Had he really been like that once? So loving and animated and happy? He couldn't imagine it.

But he unfolded one of them, holding it out just so that the light could catch it perfectly. It was of him and Astoria again, but they were sitting cross legged up in a tree, drinking from a bottle of wine and giggling to each other and holding hands.

In the next, there was an extra person. An older, elven woman whom Fenris assumed was his mother. She was sitting in front of Astoria, who was braiding her hair while he sat near Astoria, throwing pebbles at the artist with a smirk on his face. Fenris gazed long at the woman sitting with Astoria. Her eyes were light and her hair long and straight. She had a softer nose than Fenris, but the same lips. She was a short and thin woman, and seemed relaxed though her eyes conveyed a struggle that Fenris tried to determine.

He put that picture at the top of the stack and went to the next. This was a drawing of Astoria sitting, sniffing a flower as Fenris leaned into her and kissed her cheek, an arm looped through her own.

Fenris swallowed hard. Varania knew his features perfectly, and Astoria's. She had the talent to craft these drawings; fabricating the position and expressions of the individuals. But they seemed so real, so authentic that Fenris found himself believing them.

He almost couldn't look at any more, but he forced himself to unfold the next one.

This one was risque. Astoria was laying on her back, on a cot, while Fenris lay next to her. It seemed like he was in the process of rolling onto her, an arm snaked around her as he kissed her neck, with an undeniable smirk on his face.

The image made his stomach squirm and a heat build inside him. He felt like he had when he went to Hawke's house for dinner, when his family was still alive. He had wanted a nice, happy, loud home like Hawke had. He was envious. Envious of the elf and human he saw in the drawings, feeling that he would never have that. Never be able to be carefree.

Fenris couldn't stop himself from grabbing the next one and unfolding it carefully.

This one hastily drawn, like it was rushed. Fenris was comforting Astoria as she cried into his chest. The back of her shirt was bloodied. Fenris had his face buried in her hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her. It looked like she was clinging to him like she would fall if she didn't.

Fenris lingered on this one far too long for his own good, he realized, but he couldn't look away. There was no background to this one, so the context could not be seen. But Fenris could assume what had happened.

He looked to the next drawing. This one was simple. It was the two of them sitting beside each other, holding hands, looking out into a vaguely drawn courtyard. In it, he looked more like he did lately; eyes drawn tight, half-way to a scowl as he looked intensely onto what lay before him. Astoria seemed almost expressionless.

In the next drawing, both of them crouched, as if they were about to wrestle or fight – both with smirks on their faces. Fenris' stance was sloppy, but better than her's, and his hands were up properly where they should be. They looked like they were training, playfully.

Fenris sighed and added that drawing to the growing and near complete stack. The last he held, staring at the fire for a moment, asking whatever divine powers that be for the strength to go on.

The next drawing floored him.

Fenris and Astoria stood somewhere dark, in front of the older elven woman (the same from the drawing where Astoria was braiding a woman's hair)– with only a couple candles to light them. Astoria was smiling brightly, and even he was. They were holding hands, a crown of flowers and ivy on Astoria's head. The older elven woman had her palms on their hands clasped together, and Fenris recognized that movement – it was an elven ritual symbol.

This drawing was of their wedding.

Fenris' hands shook as he pushed the vellum onto the table and dropped his head in his hands.

_- Let me know what you think!_


	3. Meeting in the Middle

**Author's Note: Hey guys - I would love to hear your opinions on what's happening. I try to keep Fenris as in-character as I can, so please let me know if I'm failing miserably. Thanks for looking/reading! 3**

He heard Varric and Hawke's footsteps before they reached his room, but he didn't open his eyes, hoping they would assume he was sleeping and leave him alone. Of course, he had been expecting too much.

"Ah, rise and shine, Broody!"

"Varric," Hawke said sternly, like a mother calmly disciplining a child. "Good afternoon, Fenris."

Of course it was the afternoon already. Fenris hadn't slept all night, and when he finally succumbed to sleep in the early morning, he had been exhausted.

Fenris groaned, rolling onto his side and sitting up. "What?" He asked, irritated.

"I told you I was stopping by." Varric laughed. "We need to talk to you about Beautiful."

"Beauti...?"

"Your wife of course," Varric looked delighted. "That's her nickname."

Fenris looked at Hawke. "You know about her?"

Hawke nodded solemnly and Varric laughed again. Of course he knew. Everyone knew.

"I've never been known to keep a secret, Broody."

Fenris groaned, rubbing his forehead and getting up to sit near the fire, which was now reduced to smoldering embers. The dim afternoon light poked in through the small windows, but the room was still dark and stank of old wine. Hawke and Varric took the bench opposite him and regarded him for a few moments before moving on.

Hawke spoke first. "What do you think you're going to do, Fenris?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two. Were they both on Astoria's side? What were their opinions about this?

"I haven't decided."

Hawke tilted his head thoughtfully. "I remember when you met your sister, and you remembered her calling you Leto. Do you think your memories can come back? I mean, that one did. Seeing her acted as a trigger. Maybe seeing Astoria more will trigger other memories."

Fenris nodded. "I suppose they could."

"Did anything come back to you when you saw her?"

"No." He didn't want to say that she had looked familiar, like he knew her and had seen her a thousand times before. He didn't want them to be on her side – he wanted justification for saying that he would stay in Kirkwall.

Hawke nodded. "I'm sure Danarius made especially sure to get rid of those memories. Especially if you liked her as much as it seems you may have."

He hadn't thought of this, and that made him feel like a fool.

"I don't even know if Danarius meant to erase my memories, though I can see how it would be useful for him." He was silent for a moment as he gripped his knees. "What do you think I should do, Hawke? I respect your opinion."

Varric feigned disappointment at not being included as Hawke pondered this, brushing something off his knee. "I don't think you want my opinion, Fenris."

"I do." He replied, shoulders tense.

Hawke nodded once, scratching at his dark beard. "I think you owe it to her, Fenris. She not only supported your mother and sister, but your child. And now they're all gone. She has nothing if she doesn't have her son back."

That was Hawke. Always helping people. Fenris was half-surprised that Hawke wasn't running off with her to help.

"I owe it to her?" Fenris sneered. "I gave myself up for them, I got these markings for them. I owe them and her nothing."

"Perhaps if you did not escape after two years," Hawke pointed out. "But that was Danarius' fault for erasing your memories."

He had a point, as much as Fenris didn't want to admit it. Two years of servitude did not call for the release of three slaves in Tevinter. It would be a bad deal for any magister.

"There's nothing for you here, Fenris," Varric said, sounding sincere to his credit. "This city is crumbling – it's only a matter of time before it implodes on itself. Go. You deserve to enjoy something."

Fenris averted his gaze to the low burning embers in the fireplace. The three of them were silent for a while. Hawke and Varric share a look.

"Do you believe her, anyway?"

He nodded after a hesitation. Varric breathed in relief.

.

"She was all torn up about it, Broody. I thought the stress of the situation would kill her before she got to your mansion. The last thing she wanted was to make anything more complicated. Try to be sympathetic."

He looked up at the dwarf and the human and rested his chin on a few of his fingers, thinking. "Are you kicking me out?"

Hawke furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"Will you tell me to stop following you? If I don't help her..."

Hawke sighed, rubbing his forehead, frowning. "Fenris... At the very least, she knows who you were before your markings. You should at least talk to her. Go to the Hanged Man, or Maker forbid, let her stay in your house." That wasn't a no.

"It is not 'mine,' and she is hardly my wife. Our marriage wasn't binding."

"Oh Broody," Varric sighed, "you know that's a load of bull, right? She just didn't want to scare you. Of course, no one will ever be able to prove it, but come on. Be reasonable."

Fenris thought he was going to explode suddenly, and the mansion was too small and too dark for him. This was a chain, he realized. Another chain when all he wanted was to be free of them.

"I... need some air," he announced, getting up abruptly and grabbing his great sword and heading out of his mansion.

He ducked through the alleys of Hightown with his head down, listening for anything out of the ordinary, alert for anything that might cause him harm. It was his reflex at this point, though Tevinter was no longer on his heels.

Muscle memory brought him to The Hanged Man. He stood outside of it and looked up, disgusted, at the sign.

Hawke was right. Hawke was always right. Fenris admired and hated that about him sometimes. He always listened to Hawke. If Hawke had given him up to Danarius a year ago, he wouldn't have fought him. Something about that understanding of himself disturbed him.

With a defeated sigh, he stepped into the tavern.

He knocked on the door that he had been told was hers, the noise on the wood sounding panicked, anxious. There was a bit of shuffling on the inside, and the door cracked open a tiny bit. Through the small opening, he saw Astoria looking out cautiously. Upon seeing Fenris she sucked in a breath and opened the door enough for her full face to be visible.

"Oh, Le – sorry, Fenris. Are you alright?"

"I want to talk to you," he answered gruffly, voice low.

"Yes. Come in," she stepped back and opened the door to let his angry, panicked frame stalked in. He looked around at the room his "wife" was living.

It was small and dirty. A small bed in the corner was unmade, with pouches sitting on top beside a dagger. He realized that she was holding the other one, but now it lay limp in her hands, no longer so dangerous. She was wearing her armor, and her hair hung loose past her shoulders.

He realized how he must have just looked to her. Like a tornado storming into a room of innocents, anger directed at no one in particular but at everyone in his way.

The door shut quietly behind her as she leaned against its wood as if to give him all the space in the room, eyes warily on him as he turned to look at her. He looked away then, trying to figure out what to say. Suddenly he was tongue-tied, and that was certainly a first. He bowed his head, his thoughts simultaneously screeching to a halt and storming in his head.

"I..." Astoria began, catching his attention as he looked up at her, "I wanted to apologize."

"What?" He furrowed his brow.

"I never meant to turn your life upside down."

He scoffed, and the sound seemed to startle her. He had not been expecting an apology from her.

"N-no, it's not that." It was though, and he knew it. He groaned. "Venhedis."

Astoria startled, and he realized she probably knew what it meant.

"I... I just don't know what you want from me." He admitted.

The look she gave him was so sad, he wondered how it could really be the same woman as in those drawings who looked so carefree while smiling, giggling with him even.

"Like I said, Fenris," she began calmly, still leaning against the door as if encroaching on his personal space, he would explode and incinerate the room, "I'm not expecting us to run off into the sunset and be like we were. We're different people. But... if you choose to come with me... I am going to save Lysander. I have to."

"What magister has him?"

She looked to the floor. "I don't know."

He took a step towards her, his anger flaring. "So you're going off to the Imperium planning on knocking on every magister's door and asking if they're the ones who have kidnapped your son?"

She sucked in a sharp breath and eyed him levelly. "If that's what it takes."

He scowled. "Then you are a fool."

"Maybe. But I have nothing left to lose."

Her conviction was alarming, her voice stern. Part of him wanted further revenge on the Imperium. Another part of him gnawed at him that it was his duty to follow her, to get his son. He had nothing left to lose either. But his instinct screamed at him and he wanted to run.

Astoria cleared her throat softly and added, "If you will not come with me, and I don't expect you to, I would appreciate it if you could tell me who Danarius' colleagues were. It would give me an idea of where to begin looking."

Fenris frowned. "Very well. At the least, I can do that."

Astoria shut her eyes tightly, as if keeping herself from crying. Fenris arced an eyebrow and then sighed, realizing how cruel he had seemed to her, how it must conflict so starkly with what she remembered of him.

"I'll buy you a drink, and we can talk," Fenris offered, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. Astoria opened her eyes, glassy and blue and beautiful, and nodded, biting her bottom lip anxiously.

"Thank you."


	4. Questions

**Thank you to Kira Tamarion for the lovely reviews! This is a short chapter, but I have more on the way. =) Enjoy!**

In the dim corner where they sat, Fenris wrestled with his options in his mind. Would he leave Hawke's side to find his son whom he had never met? Hawke was recently making choices he didn't agree with, and hewasn't sure if he'd be able to follow Hawke down that particular road in helping the mages.

He tried telling himself he owed no allegiance to this woman, but he had uncomfortable thoughts rooted in his mind that hadn't been there before. He believed the letters, certificates and drawings to be true. But it was difficult to make that belief connect with his thoughts on what to do next. He knew what he should do, what the smart and responsible thing to do would be. He knew what he would do if he had his memories. But it made it no easier.

Astoria sipped from her mug as Fenris ran a hand through his hair, wondering where to start. But she beat him to it.

"So... do you remember who Danarius kept in his circle?"

Fenris glanced around The Hanged Man uneasily. "Uh... yes." He listed off the other magisters that he remembered Danarius having dealings with while Astoria wrote them down on a blank piece of vellum, asking if he knew where they lived or anything else about them. She explained to him that Danarius had been alone but with guards, when he had shown up at her home in search of Fenris. Danarius had been shocked to see the little boy, Lysander, a spitting image of his father at three years old. Astoria believed that Danarius had spoken to another magister about the boy. When Varania left with Danarius, another magister kidnapped Lysander. She explained that the magister was a middle-aged man with short brown hair and dark eyes – but Fenris said that there were many magisters of that appearance.

When that was over, Astoria looked over her list carefully.

"Alright." She said, as if she were about wrap up the conversation. Fenris turned to her, startled. "Thank you for everything. I... I'm sorry for what I've done." She pushed back in her seat, but Fenris grabbed her arm tightly but gently.

"Wait," he said, and she turned to him with wide eyes. "Wait," he repeated, "please."

Astoria sat back down slowly and Fenris let go of her.

"What is it?" She asked when he said nothing.

Fenris inwardly scolded himself. "I, uh, have a lot of questions. Please."

She nodded silently and folded her hands in her lap.

"Was that my mother in that drawing, where you were braiding someone's hair?" It was only one of the thousands of questions he had.

Astoria studied his jade eyes carefully, and then a small smile played on her face for a brief moment. "You've looked at them, then? Yes. Sharna. That was her."

They were both quiet, Astoria did not seem like she wanted to leave as much as she just had. Fenris liked the way she said the name, the way it sounded. He opened his mouth to say something but Astoria was already talking.

"Would you like to know about her?" She asked softly, reading into his interest. No judgment, no prodding in her tone.

Fenris swallowed hard and nodded slowly. This was his weakness. He longed so badly to know about them – these women who he had given everything up for.

Astoria smiled, a small and polite movement. "She was a wonderful woman. Loved you and your sister to death. She was always scolding you, you were constantly getting into trouble and pulling pranks. You were so mischievous. But whenever she would get angry with you, you two would end up in a laughing fit because she would be trying to keep a straight face and you would just smirk at her, because you would always just go do it again. Always. And you both knew it. There was no taming you, as your mother called it."

Fenris felt something welling up in his throat, like he was missing something that may have been very dear to him. He felt Astoria watching him, waiting for his reaction and to see if she should go on. When she seemed to be finished, he nodded eagerly for her to continue.

"She would sing you this song, when you were little. Before I knew you, of course, but she would sing it for me when her and I spent time together. She wanted me to know it. It was an elven song about war. It was beautiful, actually, not what you would normally think of when you think of war. You loved it, she said, when you were little. You loved elven things, you loved your heritage and culture.

"Sharna loved teaching you about elven culture. That's why I'm so surprised that she liked me so much." Fenris looked at her as she traced circles along the lip of her mug. "She liked me enough to let you marry me, which is just crazy, really. Your kind hates that. But she was wonderful. She always looked for the good in people."

Astoria's eyes were tearing up. Fenris' heart felt heavy suddenly, that this stranger was grieving more over his own mother than he was. It was loud and clear now. He knew what he had to do.

"I'm sorry," Astoria said, rubbing at her eyes. Then she blinked at him and sniffled, looking as if she was about to burst further into tears. "You have her eyes. And her mouth. Not her hair, though. Your father had dark hair, like yours. Well... you did, when it was dark."

Fenris subconsciously lifted a hand and touched his hair. "I remember it falling out, when it was dark. I had just gotten these markings. They seemed to... kill it."

Astoria nodded, her eyes solemn and her lips hinting at a frown, through struggling to remain neutral. "It's odd to see you with white hair... but it... it suits you."

Suddenly she looked away, her blue eyes drifting to her hands which shook. Fenris turned towards the sound of laughter. Varric was back in The Hanged Man, moving to the bar with Hawke. The two were deep in some conversation, Varric waving his arms about while Hawke would rub at his facial hair and consider the dwarf's words.

"You always surrounded yourself with good people," she said so quietly that he wasn't sure if she had really spoken.

"What?"

"Your friends... they're good people. They're there for you. You were always a good judge of character."

Fenris felt his finger twitch in his hair as he contemplated this. He was still unsure about calling them "friends," but he knew that by all stretches of the word that's what they were after six years. And he knew they had made their stand on this issue.

He knew what he should do at this point, that he should listen to Hawke and accompany Astoria to Tevinter. But his need for survival was rearing its head, telling him that it was a terrible idea, that he should run in the opposite direction.

Even still, he needed to help her some way. And if he wouldn't help her, he needed to not feel guilty about it.

"Spar with me."

Astoria snapped her head towards him, a look of surprise raising her eyebrows. "What?" She asked.

"Spar with me. I want to see that you can take care of yourself."

She nodded, her expression unreadable as she pushed back in her chair and looked at him carefully.

"Where?"

"Your room should do."


	5. Decision

**Thank you to Kira Tamarion again for the review! =)**

**I'm beginning to catch up to what I've written in the story... somewhat. There's a lot of editing I want to do before another chapter comes up, but there will be another in a few days (at the latest). Let me know how this is working for you!**

They went upstairs to Astoria's tiny room and regarded each other carefully across the small space. Fenris unsheathed his sword and spread his feet apart, shifting into his readied stance. Astoria took out her daggers and mirrored him.

They circled each other for a few moments before Fenris took a step towards her, swinging his sword over his head and bringing it down in a deadly arch. Astoria jumped out of the way quickly and sidestepped so that she wouldn't get cornered.

They deflected each other's blows for a few minutes, testing the abilities of the other carefully. It was a dance, and Fenris was impressed at her abilities, but he knew that she was no match against him, especially if they were somewhere he could actually start swinging his weapon without worrying of having to pay for any damages. He blocked a jab from her daggers, the metal of their weapons ringing out when they hit each other. He took another step, aiming to hit her with the pommel of his sword, but she rolled out of the way, a feral grin on her face.

He swung his sword towards her, twisting his body, but in a flash she was right beside him, too close for his blade to reach. So he pushed her away with his arms and shoulder, putting distance between them. He hooked a leg around hers and she fell back onto the floor.

Pleased with himself, he sheathed his sword and Astoria got to her feet.

"You're a decent fighter."

She shrugged. "You are skilled, as you always have been. I have a question, Fenris. When you glow... what does that do?"

Fenris arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I forgot you didn't know. Come here."

She took a few tentative steps towards him, her eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said, taking her wrist in his hand. He wasn't going to use her arm, just hold it in case she moved – which could potentially prove fatal if his hand was in her.

He lit up his lyrium, which triggered a gasp from Astoria as she stared at his markings. With a frown, Fenris gripped her wrist with one hand and with his other, he reached into her abdomen, just below the ribs.

Astoria tensed, her free hand clenching into a fist. She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his fingers curling around the bottom of her ribcage, underneath the bone. Fenris watched her expression carefully as he pushed his hand in only slightly further before pulling it out slowly, his hand only solidifying once outside.

"Wow." She breathed, her hands flying to her stomach to check for damage.

Fenris smirked.

"You couldn't do that before."

He sighed. "It is the markings. Can you fight hand-to-hand?"

She shrugged. "Not exactly."

"Let's try."

Fenris put his sword down next to her daggers. He tugged off his gauntlets and put his feet shoulder-width apart.

"Try to hit me."

She lunged, swinging a fist which Fenris caught too easily. He twisted her arm to spin her around, and she kicked behind her, hitting his shin. He grunted in response, hooking his foot around her ankle. She flailed her other arm behind her, whacking him in the ribs.

Somehow she wiggled out of his grasp before she hit the floor on her knees, tripped by him. She spun and launched off the ground, hitting him square in the chest. Fenris stepped backwards and she kicked at him, but he caught her leg and flipped her onto her back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

"You need practice," he decided, voice level.

"I know." She chuckled, sitting up. "You used to train me, when we were younger. But you also weren't as skilled as you are now."

"That was allowed?"

"Maker, no. We did it in secret until we were caught." Her face fell, as if recalling an unpleasant memory and she looked away from him.

"Oh." Fenris frowned, picking up his great-sword and handing Astoria her daggers. "When are you leaving for Tevinter?"

Astoria looked around at the filthy room. "As soon as possible. Tomorrow morning, I suppose."

Fenris nodded. Then he took a breath, and said "I'll be ready."

A moment later, the woman's eyes widened and her mouth gaped. "W-what?"

"I'll go with you. As much as I don't want to."

"Oh, Fenris, thank you!" She exclaimed happily.

"We're going to need an army if you want to break into a magister's estate and steal a child, but there is nothing left for me here. It's a death sentence, but I'll go."

Astoria looked like she was going to cry, but she smiled brightly and something in him flickered like a candle. It was a nice sight, so similar to her smiles in the drawings, and Fenris was surprised at his small sense of relief upon seeing it.

"I don't want to take you away from your friends, Fenris."

"I fill no purpose staying here, running errands with Hawke and sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. Magic and Tevinter will always hound me. I am no better running than I am confronting it." He didn't completely believe it, but he knew what he must do, and thought that if he said it enough, maybe he'd convince himself.

Astoria nodded, her expression unreadable as she regarded Fenris, his presence seeming to take up the whole room. "Thank you."

Fenris grunted in reply, still reluctant. He turned towards the door and opened it. Behind him Astoria spoke quietly.

"Your mother would be proud of you, Fenris."

It made him scowl because he didn't believe it. The way he had acted in the past twenty-four hours – surely his mother wouldn't be proud. He turned to reply, but she seemed genuine, her blue eyes planted on his.

"I'll meet you here tomorrow," he said gruffly, shutting the door behind him as he left.

"Broody!"

_Venhedis_, Fenris thought. He had forgotten that the dwarf and Hawke were there. When he turned to look at them, they were sitting at a table and clearly had had a few mugs of ale. Merrill was with them, and Anders and Isabela and Aveline. The whole gang. Wonderful.

"What?"

"Have a seat!"

Fenris sat between Aveline and Hawke. Everyone was watching him, an awkward silence stretching across the table.

"So... how about them mages?" Hawke chimes, causing Varric and Isabela to laugh, pointing out the awkwardness of the situation.

"I'm going," Fenris said, answering everyone's question that they were all too scared to ask.

Everyone was silent. Fenris measured his friend's expressions. He hated when they looked at him like that, like he was a wildfire roaring down the mountainside towards a village. They were trying to look neutral, maybe, but there was surprise in some of their faces. They hadn't expected him to make the right choice, he realized.

"When do you leave?" Merrill asked.

"Tomorrow."

They congratulated him, told him that it was the best idea, that he'd regret it later if he didn't go (he knew that already, however). And then, somehow, the conversation wasn't so forced. Someone, Fenris wasn't paying attention who, made some observation about a drunk across the tavern, and it caught everyone's attention. And then they broke out into a round of Wicked Grace.

An hour or so passed before Isabela shouted, "Astoria!"

Fenris looked up from his cards, following Isabela's gaze. They knew each other? Alarmed, he realized that that couldn't be good.

Astoria was, in fact, there. She had been walking by the rowdy group, on her way out of the tavern when Isabela caught her.

"Come drink and play wicked grace!" This time Anders was waving at her.

Fenris rolled his eyes, sure no one saw, and Astoria sat on the side of the table that seemed to occupy all the women. She was between Merrill and Isabela, the latter of whom put an arm around Astoria and pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. Fenris nearly choked, realizing that Isabela may have told her about her recent propositions to him, propositions he was now glad that he had denied.

Astoria laughed, and Varric waved the barkeep over for another pint. She smiled at Fenris, seeming embarrassed by the red hue of her cheeks, and averted her gaze to the new cards that appeared before her.

Fenris looked around at his friends warily. They all seemed to already know her. He felt somewhat betrayed that everyone had been in on this before him.

As if reading his thoughts, Hawke nudged him and smiled warmly. "We were drinking with her last night. She's quite friendly when you don't try strangling her the moment you meet her."

Fenris nodded, ignoring what Hawke had meant as a playful jab. "Did Isabela tell her...?" He kept his voice low so only Hawke could hear him as Varric said something to the others.

"Uh, yes." Hawke said, "but she seemed fine with it. It seems Isabela was more concerned with how large your -"

"I get it," Fenris said, throwing a hand up to keep Hawke from talking, who was now chuckling and turning back to his cards. Fenris scowled and took a long drink from his ale, knowing that he would need it to survive the next few rounds.

Astoria was good company. Everyone seemed to enjoy her being around. She wasn't terrible at Wicked Grace, and she ignored Anders' irritating flirtatious remarks, which left Fenris scowling.

Varric kept prying her for answers to questions like "Was Fenris always broody?" which would have bothered him normaly, but Astoria seemed to deflect the questions with a sympathetic glance towards him. She didn't say much about herself, actually, but she was still incredibly involved and kind and cheerful at times. He learned that she was actually a Ferelden, from a place called Highever will tall cliffs and rolling hills, and she liked to sing.

And apparently she could also dance.

The music kicked up sometime after Fenris' fourth drink (but he was drinking slowly), and Isabela dragged a reluctant Astoria off to the floor. They were giggling and leaning onto each other like old friends.

Varric nudged Fenris with his elbow and grinned. "What do you think, Broody?"

Hawke was getting up and bringing Merrill to the dance floor as well, leaving Aveline, Anders, Fenris and Varric.

"About what?"

"About Beautiful, of course."

Fenris realized he meant Astoria. "It's a lot to take in."

Varric shrugged. "It shouldn't be that surprising. I mean, you must have known that you had some kind of life before you forgot everything."

"Yes, but I never thought I would have been married."

On the other side of Varric, Anders snorted, earning him yet another scowl from Fenris.

"Who would've known you were once capable of love!"

"Tread lightly, mage." He warned in response, turning his jade eyes to the people dancing.

Isabela and Astoria were quite a sight to see, but Fenris kept his eyes on Astoria. She danced differently than the Kirkwall natives; a dance with a lot of twirls and foot stomping, the way Hawke danced when he was especially drunk. It must be a Ferelden dance.

She looked like a dervish, captivating the attention of most of the men in the tavern, though Isabela was also partly to blame for that. Fenris couldn't help but stare at her. She danced with Isabela for a short while, before dancing with Hawke and then Merrill, and back with Isabela, swept away by the upbeat music and the melodies that carried through the whole tavern.

As the song ended in a flurry of music, Anders arched an eyebrow at Fenris.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I dance with her, either?"

Fenris scowled, completely aware to the obvious fishing. "Why would I?" Varric burst out into a loud laugh.

"Good," Anders stood and smirked at them before heading out to join the others in the dance as the next song began.

Aveline and Varric were both staring at Fenris, and it made him uneasy. "What?"

"Are you alright?" Aveline asked. "I mean, I'd like to tell you she isn't really your wife... but those documents, those are real. That is your certificate of birth."

"You've seen them?"

"Yes, Varric and her came to see me."

"After she threatened to kill me," Varric chuckled.

"I sparred with her," Fenris explained, "She actually has some skill." An odd sort of pride flickered in him.

"Really? But she seems too sweet to be a good fighter."

"So does Merrill," Aveline pointed out.

Fenris nodded, glancing up at the dancing. Anders was laughing and talking with Astoria as they danced innocently. He wondered how she could stand to be in the presence of a mage, especially since she had lived in the same conditions as him.

But he corrected himself. She hadn't lived in the same conditions. She may have been a slave, but she was only a slave for three years, and granted freedom with his family while he stayed behind to suffer and endure more agony than anyone should survive.

Thinking this, Fenris couldn't help but feel a forced bitterness towards her, like she was just like everyone else in the world; selfish. But then, there must be some good in her if he put himself through that to free her along with his mother and sister. He was only envious that her life had been so much better, and yet here she was, throwing something at him that he wished she could take care of herself.

He was so conflicted he could have screamed.

Astoria's dance with Anders ended in a flurry with the music, and they all came back to sit at the table, except for Isabela who was dancing with a particularly flushed member of the city guard.

Fenris noticed that Astoria didn't sit next to him. In fact, she seemed to go out of her way to sit anywhere but beside him. She wouldn't go out of her way to talk to him either. It took him a while to realize that she was giving him space, and he was thankful for that.

The night wound down and Astoria left, saying her final good-bye to everyone as she would be leaving with or without Fenris in the morning. She forced a polite smile his way, as if saying that she knew him too well to know that he would go with her. But he had made up his mind, and he wasn't planning on changing it. Though his instincts screamed at him to run away, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Just like he couldn't bring himself to ignore Hadriana when she had told him about his sister. Just like he hadn't been able to listen to his instinctual side to meet Varania even when he had suspected it would be a trap.

After that, Fenris didn't feel like staying. The others were walking on eggshells – a conversation so forced and clearly dancing around what everyone wanted to talk about: him and Astoria. He got up to go and left quietly, stalking through alleyways towards Hightown, the path clear in his memory as he looked around and took in the city for what he was believing was the last time.

Astoria was standing outside The Hanged Man in the morning with all of his companions. Apparently they had all come to see him and her off. Varric was handing her a wineskin, its contents unknown to Fenris as he approached.

"Ah, Fenris, you're here!" Hawke said with a grin as he threw his hands up in welcome. "We've come to wish you both luck."

"I'm afraid we'll need much more than luck," Fenris answered grudgingly.

"No," Varric objected, "you'll be fine! And you'll bring back your son and you can start giving him brooding lessons!"

Fenris scowled and shared an annoyed glance with Astoria as Aveline cleared her throat.

"Take care, Fenris."

"You too, Aveline. Tell Donnic good-bye for me."

"Of course. He would've come but he has a patrol this morning. Next time you decide to run off, give me a week's notice, and I can arrange him to come say good-bye." She said with a soft smile. Fenris nodded, a small but pleasant look on his face as he said quick good-byes to Isabela and Merrill.

Anders and him only nodded in acknowledgement to each other, saying nothing. It was for the best, instead of exchanging insincere pleasantries. Part of Fenris was glad to get away from this, to get some time away from those that bothered him constantly.

Hawke clapped a hand on Fenris' shoulder. "We'll be here when you get back, my friend."

He grunted an inarticulate response at first before nodding once. "We will see. Take care."

"You too."

Everyone said quick good-byes to Astoria and she peered at Fenris tentatively, a seabreeze sweeping a lock of her hair over her face.

"Are you ready?" She asked, her voice calm and soft.

He swallowed hard, not finding his voice as he glanced between his friends and Astoria, seeing the two different paths stretching out before him; both uncertain. All he knew was that one would lead to a regret and longing that he would feel forever, and the other would lead to his possible death.

"I am," he said, deciding that some things were worse than death.


	6. Uncertain

**Thank you to Kira Tamarion and Billini for the reviews! =) **

The road north from Kirkwall was warm and quiet and lined with countless farms, with only the sounds of birds and the occasional cow or hen to welcome the spring. Fenris and Astoria walked generally quietly beside each other, not forcing any conversation. He liked it better that way. He wasn't one for small talk or common pleasantries, and luckily, Astoria picked up on this.

So instead, she hummed a song that sounded distantly familiar to Fenris, though for the life of him he couldn't place it.

Often times, she would run off to pick some vegetation that she had spotted from the road that didn't seem to belong to anyone, and Fenris would stand in the shade under a tree and wait for her to return. In these moments he reflected and considered turning around and going back to Kirkwall, but he knew that he'd regret it. He would always want to know, his longing would hound him like a hungry wolf following behind an injured deer.

Fenris leaned against a stone wall to someone's farm and used a small cloth to rub the dirt from his gauntlets when he heard Astoria's footsteps coming back up to the road, holding a small pile of berries in her hands.

"Something wrong?" She asked him.

"I don't like traveling on the road," he said to her as she handed him a handful of berries, "we'll run into slavers, especially as we get closer to Tevinter."

Astoria nodded in understanding. "But I'm sure you wouldn't mind cutting down some of them."

"Not at all," he answered quickly. "But there are only two of us."

"I'm a decent shot with my bow, so we could take down probably two from a distance, and then you can charge in and I'll dip around behind. We could easily take on seven."

Fenris snorted. "You're confident."

She smiled in response and squinted, looking ahead down the road.

"Well, perhaps when I've sparred with you a bit more we'll take on small groups, but for now we should hide when there's trouble. We cannot be reckless."

Astoria frowned, her lips in a tight line as she conceded. She seemed to be deep in thought, considering something, but she said nothing and Fenris didn't pry.

The heat of the afternoon was waning, but they still had a few hours before they would need to make camp. Fenris found himself glancing at Astoria sidelong often, and something about her seemed so wrong. She was sad. Genuinely sad, like she was lost in the world in a despairing panic.

"Are you alright?" He asked finally, brow furrowed as he realized it wasn't just a mood.

She seemed to snap out of a trance, looking at him, flustered. "Uh, yes. I'm fine."

"Indeed." Then he smirked at her. "You seem fine."

She chuckled to herself. "I still just can't believe that you're actually coming with me."

Fenris frowned. "I cannot either."

Astoria ran a hand through her hair. "You can leave whenever you want to, Fenris. I won't chase you down again."

He sighed. "I suppose if I had remembered everything, I would jump at the chance to go with you.."

Pain flashed across her features, but she composed herself and nodded, not looking at him. "You would have. You were very devoted to your family."

"And to you, I presume?" He wondered aloud after a few moments thinking, eyeing her carefully and looking for the smallest changes in her expression.

"Yes," she took a deep breath and looked at the trees sadly.

Fenris gazed ahead at the road, considering this with his hands in his pockets. "I tried to kill Varania," he confessed, his voice eerily level and calm.

She seemed surprised by him saying this, though she understood. "I know. Do you wish you could?"

"Still wish to kill her?" He questioned. "Yes."

She sucked in a breath quietly. "I see. What she did to you was awful. You never would have done that. You were a better brother than she was a sister."

He was surprised to feel relief at this confirmation. Her acknowledgement of Varania being selfish gladdened him, because no one else had ever seen it from his point of view. In the moment with Hawke and Varric both talking him down from killing her, it had seemed like everyone had been against him, and on her side. Having someone else tell him that she was at fault as well... it felt nice. He felt validated.

"But you like her." It wasn't a question, and he didn't hide his icy tone that more than gave away his thoughts on the matter.

Astoria nodded. "She made a lot of sacrifices also, Fenris."

His brow pulled together as he stared at the road ahead, a dim scowl on his face. "She resents me. She said that I got the 'better deal.' She has no idea what I've gone through."

Beside him, Astoria frowned and sympathetically nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity."

She winced, but gathered up her composure quickly and looked out onto the farmlands around them. A long silence passed between them under the late afternoon.

Fenris cleared his throat after a while, feeling his emotions calming. "Do we have different fathers?"

Astoria looked confused for a moment, but she shook her head. "No. You have the same father." Her blue eyes searched his carefully.

"But Varania has red hair. And her skin is lighter."

"Your mother had red hair. Your father had dark hair, like yours was."

He nodded, intrigued. Did she know his father? Had he known his father? "Who was he?"

"An elf named Verran. He became a slave to provide for Sharna and you, when he, you and your mother fled Seheron."

"I wasn't born into slavery?"

"No." An inexplicable weight seemed to lift from him at that simple word. He had been free once, even if at the time he had been too young to enjoy it. "You were about five when your mother had to become a slave, Varania was only about three years old. Verran got sick and passed away a year before."

Fenris looked up at the big sky above them, vast and blue and beautiful as the sun dipped further towards the horizon to the west. A soft springtime breeze wafted through the trees and down the road, and Fenris felt somewhat calm, though each step brought him closer to Tevinter. He hadn't imagined that his father was an honorable man, for some reason. He had assumed the worst of his father, if his sister was any indication of the apple falling from the tree.

"So he visited us? I mean, if Varania had the same father, and she's two years younger..."

"Yes, a couple times a year. When he could."

"Did I remember him? When I knew you?"

"Barely." She recalled, fingertips absentmindedly dancing along the hilts of her daggers. "You were young, of course, before he died. But you remembered him coming to visit, and you said you remembered his voice clearly. You would try to impersonate it as a child to make your mother laugh. But I guess one day you must have sounded just like him, or said something that he would have said, and she cried. You never did it again."

Fenris wished he could remember this now, the sound of his father's voice or the love his mother had felt for him. The memories Astoria spoke of seemed like they belonged to someone else. He couldn't feel a deep connection with them, though he tried and desperately wanted to. He felt vulnerable that someone could know so many intimate details about him, and he had no control over that. It felt dangerous, unnerving, as if all of his years of running and hiding caught up with him and put him on the ground, leaving him open and vulnerable.

Suddenly Fenris wanted to apologize for not remembering any of this as he imagined the burden that Astoria had to carry since he left. He tried comprehending and imagining what it had been like for her – to take care of a sick woman, to lose a spouse, to have a child stolen away, to hear about the death of your family through a letter.

Fenris didn't know how to be a father, or a husband, or a lover, or anything that Astoria probably remembered him as. And he knew that he couldn't be, that he wouldn't be because it required too much of an investment. Fenris didn't invest in things, he tried to live like he could run away at any moment. No chains, no bonds. It was all he had allowed himself to pursue, but always with that distant, gnawing longing to learn about his past. That longing he had suppressed because it shamed and angered him.

"Do you think Lysander is still alive?" He asked her, and somewhere deep inside of him a seed of hope threatened to plant itself. If he did have a son, he would want the best for him.

Astoria made a small noise, like a squeak, and he knew that no one had asked her outright. "I... I don't know. I'm sure he is. Why would someone take him unless they were expecting you to come get him? Your markings have a value beyond gold to the magisters here."

Fenris scowled, his instinct gnawing at him. "At least you know that we're walking into a trap." He said bitterly.

"I can't sit by, and I can't run away." She admitted with waves of sorrow in her voice, threatening to overwhelm her. And that was all they said for a while.

Later, a well-placed arrow flying from Astoria's bow took down a rabbit in a small wooded area nearby a farm, which proved a tasty, if lean dinner. As he finished his meal, she came back from a nearby creek with a refilled wineskin and sat down opposite the fire with a tired sigh.

"We need to spar," Fenris reminded her, brandishing his sword.

Astoria grinned and got to her feet, drawing out her daggers. Together they stepped a good distance away from the fire, between some trees, and began their match.

She was good, a little more confident than before, but Fenris was still just as fast even with a massive weapon, with brute strength on his side. But Astoria had props – she used the trees to her advantage, ducking behind them to come around the other side, and more than once Fenris' sword chipped at the tree bark.

As their dance continued, his sword connected with both of her daggers and the ringing of steel sounded through the surrounding forest. But Fenris had put too much strength in his swing, and one of her daggers went flying from her hand as she tried to jump quickly out of the way, just missing the follow through of his swing as the blade's tip scraped against her armor, narrowly missing skin.

"Shit," Astoria hissed under her breath, checking that she hadn't been cut.

Fenris scooped up her dropped dagger from the ground and handed it to her hilt-first.

"It's hard to stop a sword like that with two tiny blades."

"Again." He said, unamused but glad to be channeling some pent up frustration.

He had won the sparring about five times, before he decided they try at unarmed fighting. He leaned his sword against a tree, dropping his gauntlets on the ground beside it, and waved to Astoria.

"Try to hit me."

She tried to trick him, by throwing up her left hand just before her right fist traveled towards him, but he somehow had both of her wrists in his hands before she could react. Instead of throwing her to the ground like she expected, he just looked at her.

"Try to get out of this." He held her wrists together and she tried to kick a leg out at him while trying to pry her wrists from his grasp. But he was too fast, again, and tripped her other leg out from under her. He didn't let her fall this time, though, and helped her steady herself.

"Again."

Astoria ran at him, an arm reaching out to bat his hand away as he tried to block her advance. Before a second had passed, she was pinned to the ground, panting, with Fenris smirking above her.

"Again."

They worked on this until it had been dark for hours, and they were exhausted. She collapsed into a ball beside the fire as Fenris took the first watch, figuring he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. After he was confident that she was asleep, he took out the stack of vellum and read the letter from his mother before looking at the drawings again.

Something about the drawings tugged at him from deep down, though if it was from a lost memory or a longing that he had had for years, he wasn't sure. He had trouble comparing what he knew of himself to the elf in the drawings – had he really been so carefree and loving then? It embarrassed him, that someone had been holding onto these intimate snapshots of a softer side that Fenris had apparently once had, but he held no more.

Across the fire, Astoria shifted, rolling over to face away from him in her sleep. He compared her in the drawings – infatuated, younger, carefree, with the woman he saw in front of him – sorrowful, lost, alone.

Despite his reservations about continuing down this path – this uncertain but certainly dangerous path – that he saw when he looked at Astoria, he knew this was the right thing to do. If he stayed in Kirkwall, what would his life become? Hawke led him down a road of supporting the mages, of doing things that Fenris did not agree with. Once his companions go their own paths, what would he do?

There was meaning and purpose to what he was doing now, he tried to convince himself. And somehow, alarming as it was, it was easier to convince himself of this than he had thought.

**I love reviews so don't be shy! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.**


	7. Simple Touch

**Author's Note: If you recognize it, it it's Bioware's. That said, thank you to Kira Tamarion and Billini for the reviews! =) Tell me what you think! Oh and kudos to whoever gets the Tolkien shout-out.**

A week passed before they were halfway through the mountains just north of Kirkwall. They sparred every night, and though Astoria had several bruises and scrapes, she eagerly would jump right back up onto her feet and go at it again. She enjoyed this time where they could be close and in contact, where she could feel Fenris' hands on her, his patience seeming to expand every night with her progress.

With weapons, she was much more deadly, and as they fell into the routine of sparring, she was better able to get a handle for Fenris' abilities. She was almost a match for him, and he figured that she would be soon enough. But hand-to-hand, she needed a lot of work to deflect blows and to land them.

This leg of the journey was quiet, and at night, Fenris would religiously read through his mother's letter and look through Varania's drawings while he took the first watch. He wished they would trigger a memory in him but they never did.

Fenris enjoyed Astoria's company, though he wouldn't say so. She would hum pretty songs and pluck edible food from bushes and trees, and shoot game from far away because as quiet as Fenris was, he knew he couldn't sneak up on an animal. They alternated cooking the food and while there was never much to eat, it was always decent enough and didn't make him sick.

More than this, she never pressed him for answers, never forced memories down his throat in hopes of triggering something in him. She seemed to understand, seemed to accept that he wasn't who she remembered. But he still had questions, but sometimes asking opened up the dark possibility that he would not like the answers.

"Did you send a letter to Varania, telling her that we were going back?" He asked one night as they sat in a pine grove with a fire cackling at their feet. The rains were coming, to the north, but they would make it through the night dry. Still, the forest was silent in preparation for the storm.

"No," Astoria answered plainly. "When I learned that she led Danarius to you, I stopped talking to her. She had told me what I needed to know, so I took off for Kirkwall."

"It took you a year to get to Kirkwall?"

"Well, it took about two months to get Varania's last letter, which was the one she had sent when she finally felt that she was safely out of Kirkwall after meeting you. And then I had to sell everything and hit the road. That was about eight months ago. In my travels, I spent a lot of time with rebels who want to overthrow the Imperium. They are trying to get some information on Lysander, but none that I have heard of yet."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "You work with the rebels?"

"Yes. I went with them hunting slavers when they went towards the south whenever I could, since traveling alone in the Imperium without an idea of where to go is unsafe, to say the least."

"You've hunted slavers? Perhaps I've thought wrong about you."

Astoria smirked. "You did say that we would need a small army, Fenris."

"Yes, before I knew you were a rebel." Fenris arched an eyebrow. His conception of her immediately shifted into something more and more dangerous, but he thought it good. He felt a flicker of admiration, imagining her killing droves of slavers.

"They'll help us, Fenris. Tevinter has been a mess these past few years. The Qunari are more aggressive in Seheron, and the rebels are seeing this as a good opportunity to rise up."

"But they're always crushed." He noted.

She nodded across the fire, an indecipherable but somehow defiant gleam in her eyes. "What better time to rise up than when your enemy doesn't see you as dangerous enough to declare war on? The best time to attack is when they don't think you're a threat. There are a lot of us now, and we're organized."

_Clever clever_, Fenris thought with the slightest smirk, and he crossed his ankles and leaned back into the tree. "I see."

Astoria chuckled and used her dagger to open a walnut before tossing its contents to him. "Tevinter won't know what hit them."

Astoria did not wake him up in the morning, but rather a heavy and cold rain did. His mood was soured immediately, as he scowled at the dark morning around him. He scooted himself back against the tree he leaned on and looked at Astoria across from the smoldering embers. She gave out a long sigh and smiled at him.

"Good morning."

He grunted some inarticulate and grumpy response and rested his arms on his knees, pulling himself into a ball. The forest was silent except for the dismal pattering of rain. The mountains stretched out far out to the north under a cloak of heavy clouds.

Then he realized he had the drawings and his mother's letter and the documents in a pouch on his hip. He reached for it and looked across to Astoria, alarmed.

"It's going to get wet," he said, sounding more panicked than he had aimed for.

"What is?"

"The letter, the drawings, my birth document-"

"Oh no, they'll be fine, Fenris. The leather is enchanted." She waved her hand dismissively and he relaxed again. Then a grin spread across her face. "You brought them with you?"

"Of course I did," he answered harshly. He hadn't meant for her to know. In his mind, he saw it as a weakness that he had shown such interest in the drawings. He didn't want to give her false hope, that he longed for his past life, or at least the knowledge of what it had been like.

She was still smiling, but she said nothing as she pulled herself up to her feet and stretched. Fenris got to his feet, cursing the rain that began to sap the heat from him.

"You don't seem bothered by the rain," he accused as they began walking down the slope of the mountain, the ground damp under his toes. Neither of them had anything to protect themselves from the pour, and Fenris hated how it made his snowy hair stick to his forehead, the tips of his it threatening his field of vision.

"It's a pain, but I always welcomed it in Tevinter. Especially when we depended on the crops." She smirked at him, but it wasn't unkind or accusing.

He was quiet for a moment, walking beside her. A question sprung to mind that had been bugging him for days, and he didn't want to repress it anymore. "How were we able to... fraternize? I mean, as slaves."

Astoria's answering smile didn't make him feel as awkward asking such a person question. "It was easy, actually. Since we were the same age we were given the same tasks – usually working in the stables or kennels or cleaning. I had been living in the human slave quarters, but when they saw that your mother seemed to like me, they let me live with your family. They had meant it as a punishment to her, giving her another mouth to feed. She didn't mind, though."

"You lived with us?"

"For a year."

"Is that before or after..."

"It was just after you and I became romantically involved," she said plainly, as if this wasn't an awkward conversation at all.

Her blue eyes searched his and suddenly she seemed ashamed as her hair clung to the side of her face and rain beaded at her eyelashes. "I – I'm sorry."

He was about to ask her why, but a clap of thunder exploded just as the mountainside lit up in a flash of lightning. She grabbed him at the elbow in her surprise. He reacted like he always did at unexpected touch – he lit himself up and turned on her with a feral growl rumbling in his throat. As he registered her face in his consciousness, he struggled with his temper. He stopped himself in time, before he touched her, and Astoria immediately averted her gaze, the rain dripping down her face. She looked ashamed.

Beside him, Astoria let out a shrill laugh, nearly hysterical in itself, as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and dipped her chin, heading down the mountainside ahead of him. She didn't question his reaction, didn't address it. It bothered him deeply how little his outburst seemed to affect her – that she wasn't visibly angry with him, or afraid of him. She had to be careful around him.

With a curse in Arcanum directed at no one, he followed behind, hands in his pockets, and let the rain roll down his face.

They stopped walking in the early evening, exhausted and sopping wet and positively miserable. Fenris collapsed against the dry stone wall of a hollow in the mountainside, shivering, partly angry that there would be no warm food tonight or a fire. Astoria mirrored his position several feet away. Here they were sheltered from the rain unless a fierce wind whipped it horizontally. Luckily, that hadn't happened just yet.

She began singing softly to herself, so quietly that Fenris could hardly hear it. He didn't ask her to stop nor to sing louder, instead he strained to hear bits of it as he tried to get dry.

Fenris wondered how he had gotten here, so far from his companions, practically overnight. Even if he had not decided to run off with Astoria, they would have been disappointed, and he would be regretting it for the rest of his life. He had been contemplating leaving Kirkwall for some time, but he had no place to go. He had debated going to Seheron, and figured that at any point he could abandon Astoria and make his way there.

Something landed in his lap, jerking his attention to the present. He looked down at his legs, seeing a wineskin, but it wasn't the one Astoria usually used, and he had his own. Throwing a glance at Astoria, he unscrewed the top of the the wineskin and sniffed its contents.

Wine.

"Wine?" He repeated his thoughts, the tiniest of smirks tugging his lips upwards.

"My father used to say if men took more pleasure in wine and cheer above gold, the world would be a merrier place." Astoria shook her hair out down her back and blew hot breath into her hands, trying to warm herself up.

"Smart man," Fenris said, taking a greedy swig from the skin. "Not terrible. What wine is this?"

"It's from Antiva, I don't remember what it is called. Varric gave it to me."

Fenris took another swig and handed it back to her. "Thank you."

"Well, have more. What kind of person feels good after two sips?"

He couldn't help but let the small laugh that tugged at him come out as he took the skin back and drank more from it, letting the alcohol warm his insides as he curled into himself. Minutes passed, and they watched the sky; the rain pouring from the thick clouds.

"You know, Isabela is a nice woman." Astoria said to him, and the statement was so random that he turned incredulous, to her. A devilish and knowing smirk played on her face.

"What?"

"She said that she had been after you for years." She wasn't accusing him, and she didn't sound angry in the least, only curious.

"She has." He allowed.

"If I may ask, why did you never...?"

Fenris swallowed the wine, not sure how to answer this question. Of late he had been considering taking her up on her offers, though now glad that he hadn't. He looked at the wineskin and considered, chewing over his words carefully before answering.

"I've never had... feelings for her, if you will."

Astoria nodded slowly, turning her blue gaze to the storm. He sighed.

"And there has been no one else. I know you're wondering."

She seemed genuinely surprised by this. "R-really? Nine years... and no one?"

He shrugged, taking another swig of the wine, realizing he would desperately need it if she continued this conversation further. "No one," he answered. Then he amended. "Not willingly, anyway. I _was_ a slave, you remember."

Astoria looked at him for a long time, her face unreadable and he only imagined the questions she had, but he could not bring himself to answer them or ask her to reveal them. She settled against the stone and nodded. "I would not hold it against you if it were otherwise. There has been no one for me as well. Not that you care to know, but there it is." She gestured vaguely out to the storm.

Fenris felt his ears burning dully at the knowledge he hadn't expected to learn, as he glanced sidelong and saw her sitting with her eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest, knees pulled up tight. Something about her seemed fragile, and Fenris took another long swig of the wine and pushed it across the stone to her, realizing he had drank half the bag and she probably needed it more than he. He had cryptically just informed her that he had committed adultery (though could it be considered adultery if one didn't know they were married?).

"How were you captured? By the slavers." He wanted to change the subject desperately.

Astoria chuckled bitterly, but did not open her eyes. "I was a fool, that's how. There was talk of me marrying some man I had never met, would you imagine, and I ran. I wanted to see the world, I wanted to see Thedas. I traveled with a group of troubadours into Orlais, and then I went north. On the road, I was captured, completely overwhelmed, and Mavion bought me at Minrathous."

Fenris nodded. "Have you not gone to visit them? Your family."

"I sent letters once you freed me, but they died in the Blight. My father fought in the final battle at Denerim, with the King and the Hero of Ferelden."

Fenris didn't know much about Ferelden, but he had heard these stories, he had been free when they had happened.

"I'm sorry, then." He said.

Astoria didn't look at him, she only poked at the wineskin absentmindedly. "I miss him." She said, almost a whisper.

"Your father?" Fenris asked, feeling himself tense.

"Lysander."

Fenris looked out at the storm and shifted uncomfortably where he sat. He had hoped that by now he'd remember something about her, but there had been nothing to look back on except the drawings. He believed them to be real, but it was difficult to do any more than that, to feel any connection that perhaps had only laid dormant.

While he felt that he could eventually grow to like her as more than... whatever she was to him, he couldn't imagine falling in love with her. He couldn't imagine falling in love with anyone. That wasn't him. He couldn't imagine acting as a father – he had no idea how to be one, fatherhood was such a foreign concept to him.

"Would you like to see a drawing of him?" Astoria asked him softly, taking a swig of the wine.

Almost too eagerly, he nodded, not finding his voice. Apparently Lysander looked just like him, acted like he used to – according to the letters he had read. Astoria dug through her pack tentatively and drew out a very similar stack of vellum to his wrapped in the same thin hide.

She carefully unwrapped the hide from around it and handed Fenris the top piece of vellum. It was folded and nothing could be seen on it She turned her head as soon as it was in his hands, and he meticulously unfolded the piece of vellum, suddenly unsure if he wanted to actually see it and open up that door.

The little boy in the drawing was probably around seven years old, and he was playing with a makeshift slingshot. His hair was charcoal-black, straight and hanging down onto his forehead, but not quite as long as Fenris'. The boy had big, bright eyes, but still lacked the elven features Fenris found so familiar. Though the drawing wasn't colored, Fenris knew the boy had green eyes, like him. The boys lips were full, shaped like his own. In everything else though, the boy looked like Astoria. He had her small nose, her ears, her soft chin and thin neck. The boy's mouth was curled and brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled on the slingshot and aimed at some unknown target. Fenris realized that he made that same face – Varric had teased him about it often.

His limbs were lanky, a thin boy with a scar on his arm. In the background, a vaguely drawn Astoria was lugging a basket of grain somewhere, a disapproving but affectionate expression as she looked at the boy. Her hair was up messily, exposing a thin neck and tense shoulders and the weary eyes typical of slaves and peasants.

Fenris ran his fingertips over the drawing. Something tugged at the edge of his consciousness, like a word on the tip of his tongue, and he mentally scrambled for it, desperately trying to reach it. But it was gone in a moment, and Fenris wondered if anything had actually happened. He looked around him. Nothing had changed. Astoria was looking away, the hint of tears in her eyes. The rain still beat heavily on the dark mountains.

He looked again at the boy in the drawing, who was crouching like a cat about to pounce, eyes intensely planted on something distant. Then he looked at the rest of the drawing, making sure to take everything in. Astoria was barefoot, her shadow long on the ground behind her. Hawks flew high above, while a couple sheep grazed in the distance. Astoria was beside a structure, only part of which was visible, but it looked to be a barn, with a door opened leading into darkness. A shovel leaned against the old wood of the building, and the head of a hound sleeping poked from the shadows inside.

Fenris wanted to keep this drawing, but he slowly and reluctantly folded it back up and held it out to her. She wasn't looking, so he had to speak to get her attention. "Do you have any others?"

She jerked her head towards him and wiped at her eyes. "Uh, yes. They're... scattered in here. You can look through. You might not like what you find," She warned, but handed him the stack and turned her head again.

Fenris put the drawing of Lysander to the side as he looked through the documents. One was of Astoria caring over a hound's wounded leg, Lysander standing over her with rapt attention as he watched. Fenris wanted to chuckle at the boy's expression; so serious, so... adult, so familiar. This drawing was so quickly drawn, there was no detail to the surroundings, and Fenris continued to the next.

Lysander, in this one, was a younger boy, his hair not so long or thick, his eyes framed by thick dark lashes like his mother's. He was dancing, half naked and skinny while Astoria sat down in the background with her head in her hand, laughing. Sharna was beside her, clapping in encouragement as the boy danced for them, his grin wide and authentic.

Fenris got that feeling again, tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He put all his attention on the drawing, looking long at his mother and Astoria, hoping their faces drawn in this would coax a memory out of him. But nothing came, and he felt the feeling drifting away hopelessly.

"Venhedis," he swore, a wave of frustration racking him. Astoria was suddenly sitting up straight, staring at him.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her eyes traveling to the vellum in his hands and looking at the drawing with a small, nearly inaudible gasp.

"Nothing," he said curtly.

"I can take them back-"

"No," he shook his head abruptly. "I want to keep looking."

She turned away slowly after watching him, as if waiting for another conniption.

The next piece was not a drawing, but an official-looking letter. He opened it, unsure if it even pertained to him.

_Astoria,_

_ We have tried to find you for years. If we had known where to mail a letter to, we would have told you much sooner. I'm incredibly sorry, my dear, but your father has fallen at the battle at Denerim._

Fenris abruptly folded the letter back up, aware that this was not his business. He moved quickly onto the next drawing, hoping Astoria hadn't seen him read part of that letter.

This one stole his attention. The boy was young still, like how he looked in the drawing where he danced, and he laid down on his side with his head on Sharna's lap. They were on a cot, Sharna leaning against the wall. A lantern on the nightstand beside the bed cast a low light on them and dramatic shadows. Sharna looked thin and sick, her hair laying limp on her shoulders. Her eyes, so much like his own, were on the boy asleep on her lap. She ran her long fingers through his dark hair, a tear on her cheek. Her lips, also like his own, curled in a sad frown.

Fenris almost didn't notice Astoria beside Sharna, gazing at the elven woman sadly and with concern, her hands folded on her knee. She looked exhausted, like she had been too tired to even clean the dirt from her skin and underneath her nails. Her hair was up again messily, her shoulders tense and her lips in a tight line as she looked at her mother-in-law and son.

Lysander, on Sharna's lap, looked so peaceful with his fingers curled in the blanket. The drawing was so sad; with Fenris' sick mother, sleeping child and concerned wife, as if an unspeakable tension rested between the three of them.

Fenris felt eyes on him, and he turned to see Astoria watching him, her fingers on her lips, looking like she teetered on the verge of tears. It was clear this drawing triggered some deep emotions inside of her. He said nothing and they held each other's gaze for a few long moments, before Fenris looked back at the drawing.

Astoria scooted closer to him, but he made no move to distance himself from her. He didn't want to, actually. The pain on Astoria's face in the drawing was astounding. He knew that she had experienced this, and something was so wrong about it. Guilt tugged at him in some part of his soul he thought better left ignored.

"What is happening here?" He asked in a quiet, tentative voice so unlike him.

Astoria took a shaky breath, and they were next to each other, their shoulders ghosting the other's. "It had rained all day," she said, her voice cracking, "like today. He had been inside all day, his energy pent up, rambunctious as ever. Your mother had just sang him to sleep. It's the only way he can get to sleep on days like that. It was the last time she sang to him, and your sister and I sat there with her for the night. She had been sick for a while by then."

Fenris found it difficult to speak, his throat and chest suddenly tight. He choked on the words in his throat. "H-how long... until...?"

Astoria didn't need him to continue his question. "That night. She passed away that night."

His jade gaze fell back to the drawing. He felt numb. Beside him Astoria began to cry, her hands resting on her knees and her head bowed. A gasping sob escaped her and Fenris frowned. As she crumbled beside him, Fenris felt something like a knee-jerk reaction prod at him from the depths of his mind. It was like second nature, and he realized that he actually wanted to comfort her.

He folded the drawing back up and tentatively reached for her hand, like it was the only correct thing to do. Inches away, he froze, unsure as he stared down that dark and uncertain path of affection. He told himself that he would only do this once, that he only wanted to stop her crying so he could sleep. Clenching his jaw, he wormed his fingers around her palm and between her own fingers, squeezing gently. He frowned as that familiar pain from his markings traveled up from his fingers.

It was a move that he was unfamiliar with, but something felt familiar about it. He had done this countless times before, he was sure. He was sure that her soft hand in his was once a daily habit.

He felt guilty somehow, for all of the pain she had suffered – guilty that he could not remember, guilty that this seemingly kind woman went through the Void for his family. His instinct kicked in though, and as much as he wanted to walk away and wash his hands from this young adventure... a deep longing urged him forward, to learn more about his past. He was predictable in that way, and he hated it, but he couldn't let it go. He had never been able to let it go.

The touch stilled her for a moment, but she squeezed back, dropping her head into her free hand as she cried. Fenris put the stack of vellum down on the ground beside him and held her hand between them as he gazed out at the dark storm. Astoria's crying drifted in and out with the rhythm of the rain, and the dark shadow of night fell upon the Vimmark Mountains.

**What do you guys think? Let me know, even if you have negative things to say (I'm conflicted about something in this chapter as well, but I'm going to roll with it).**


	8. Messing With The Bull, Getting the Horns

**AN: I know I should have waited a bit to keep publishing more chapters, but I swear I'm almost caught up. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading! =)**

**Also, if you recognize it, it's Bioware's.**

**I had to re-post this because for some reason FFNet deleted it, weird. =/**

Fenris removed his hand from hers when Astoria went limp with sleep and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to warm and dry himself. The night felt so cold and so lonely up in the mountains. When sleep did come to him in the early morning, he dreamed.

Nay, he remembered.

_He remembered plucking a white lily from a flowerbed and putting it to his nose, thinking "she will like this, she likes lilies."  
><em>

_ He remembered holding a sword and swinging it slowly in front of him, testing its weight in his hands. He stood outside, under the vigilant watch of guards under a hot sun and hazy sky, his bare feet covered in dust. He vaguely noticed that his skin was unmarred by the lyrium he would eventually receive. In the memory he was anxious and fearful, but determined.  
><em>

_ He remembered panting while a searing pain shot through him from his side, and his leg, and his shoulder, and his back, but he stood victorious over a dead man in a small coliseum, the roars of a crowd of human magisters deafening. He dropped the sword, not able to take his eyes from the lifeless face at his feet.  
><em>

And then he awoke.

Fenris was up in an instant, as if he was being attacked. He felt the memories, so vivid a second ago, slipping away. Astoria got to her feet also, blinking in the dawn, confused. The rain had stopped sometime during the early morning, and worms wiggled from the ground to greet the day while the few birds that lived this high above the rest of the world sang.

"What is it?" She asked him, panicked as her hands flew to her daggers.

Fenris didn't answer. He tried remembering as he paced – _dirt on his feet, arms free of his markings, a sword, a flower_... And then like a wave dragging itself back out to sea, he remembered less. _A flower, unblemished skin on his arms_... and then _nothing_. He wanted to scream in frustration, and perhaps he did. He paced for several minutes like a caged, raving animal, hands clenched into tight fists.

"Fenris-"

"I remembered!" He shouted harshly, as if she should have known and her eyes lit up in hope, "I remembered something, only for a moment. It's gone."

Her face fell, looking like she had been physically stung. Fenris kicked the ground, his temper getting the better of him. The move felt overwhelmingly unsatisfactory.

"Venhedis," he hissed to no one in particular. He wanted suddenly to be back in Kirkwall. But he was too far from the filthy mansion that he couldn't quite bring himself to call "his." He wheeled on her, pointing an accusatory gauntleted finger. "Did you do something?"

"What? Fenris, no!"

Of course she hadn't done anything, he knew that. But he needed an explanation. Any explanation. He felt his heart pounding heavily in his chest as he turned, going back the way they had come.

"Fenris?" Her voice came out alarmed. "Fenris? Fenris!" She was running after him, scooping up the sack of drawings and letters that he had left on the ground beside him when they fell asleep. "Fenris!"

He ignored her, storming up the slope, and she grabbed his elbow. "Fenris!"

He turned on his heel, instantaneously glowing with his lyrium, suddenly remembering all the times he had been unwillingly touched. He grabbed her shoulders and walked her backwards a couple steps, struggling to fight his instinct as her face registered in his mind. He wanted to curl his fingers into her shoulders tighter, scream at her, do something, but he didn't. More than he wanted to, he wanted _not_ to.

"Don't touch me," he growled, his voice raw and dry.

Her blue eyes were wide in shock, but her hands were up in surrender. "I'm sorry." She managed after a moment of struggling with her voice. "Fenris, please."

Fenris lifted his hands from her shoulders and he made a pained sound in his throat. Conflicted between running in either direction, he slumped to the rocky ground and sighed. He weighed his options. He could run back to Kirkwall, maybe it would take a week if he didn't get lost. He couldn't hunt – he would need her to get anywhere more than a couple day's walk from here. He could continue down this road with her – but what if more memories came to him, and then disappeared? He couldn't handle it. He thought he could, but he couldn't.

Astoria fell to her knees in front of him and waited with the patience of a saint.

They sat for a while as the cloud cover broke sporadically, the ground still wet from the day before, the dawn light spreading from the East. When Astoria's legs were numb from sitting on her heels, she had an idea. It was dangerous and daring, but it was something, and she was nothing if not a fool (she thought). Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Fenris was showing no signs of moving.

She reached out suddenly and hit him. It was a whack to the arm, on his armor and not very hard, but it caught his attention. His eyes snapped towards hers severely and he furrowed his brow, suddenly tense and coiled like a spring.

She did it again, a hint of rebellion behind her smirk.

"What are you doing?" He growled, fingers twitching and ready to block the next whack.

Astoria looked at him, measuring his reaction. "Trying to spar, of course."

She knew it was a leap, that she'd be lucky if he didn't either try to kill her or run away. But she did it anyway. She had to get moving down the road. Every minute she spent here was another minute Lysander was gone from her. She had to get Fenris off the ground.

She went to whack him again, on the arm, but a twitch of a movement and he hit her hand away with a disapproving scowl on his face. Her grin was feral as she arched an eyebrow at him. "Again."

That's what he had said to her, and suddenly it occurred to him what she was doing. Distracting him, motivating him.

"You think it's funny? I could kill you," he warned through his teeth, "why don't you fear me?"

Astoria sighed, her expression changing in an instant from a smirk to a frown as the seriousness of the situation gripped her. "As I've said, I have nothing left to lose. Yes, you're volatile. Yes, you're dangerous. But I have to go get Lysander, in spite of this. If I can get you on your feet, then it's progress.

He stared at her for a long time, completely thrown off-guard, trying to decide how he felt about this. Her honesty was charming in its own way other times. She wasn't trying to provoke him, she was trying to get him up and moving again – headed forward, not dwelling and Maker's breath, not brooding. Somewhere deep down, he appreciated the thought but he was still scowling, still angry.

"That bothers me." He hadn't meant to say quite that, but it was out.

Astoria sighed again. "I don't fear you, Fenris." Her voice was quiet and soft, sincere. "I fear what you could do to me, yes. But you are a good man. With or without your memories."

He averted his gaze, feeling his throat tighten. No one had ever said quite that to him. He looked at his hands for a while, trying to keep his face stoic. "Those memories... I wish I had them back." He admitted.

Astoria nodded, leaning back on her heels. "There's nothing?"

"No."

"Well... if it happens again, whatever is happening, tell me what you see. That way you will have said it, and you might remember saying it."

Fenris nodded, seeing the sense in this idea. He rubbed one of his temples with a gauntleted hand. "When I saw Varania... I remembered her, slightly. I remembered her calling me Leto. I knew her face. Your face was familiar as well, but I couldn't remember you from anything. This is the first time that... actual images have come to me, other than her calling me Leto in Mavion's courtyard."

"I... I'm sorry, Fenris. I can only imagine how difficult this is for you."

Fenris held her gaze for a moment before he got to his feet. With a defeated sigh, he held his hand out to her and pulled her up as well, a sign of peace as he saw it. The sky seemed to open up just a bit. Astoria smiled warmly to him, before turning and looking out at the expanse of the mountain range before them; the deadly and uncertain path stretched out before them.

Fenris sighed, brushing the dirt off his rear and began down the slope before Astoria. He couldn't quite apologize yet, but he was moving and it was all he could manage at the moment. Perhaps it was good enough for her.


	9. Varania's Letter

**Hey everyone! Thank you to Kira Tamarion, Billini and PhoenixTheirin for the lovely reviews! =)**

**I hadn't realized how incredibly angsty this story is, and wow, it really is a bummer. The next chapter will be much more light-hearted, if you can believe it. Enjoy, let me know what you think!**

Since he had seen the drawings of Astoria, Lysander and Sharna, Fenris thought he was losing his mind. He couldn't get those images out of his head – the despair, the familial bond, the love and the sorrow. It was overwhelming and he felt guilty, and he hated that he felt guilty. Now that he without a doubt believed that Astoria was in fact his wife from before, he allowed himself other thoughts that he had previously refused to think about.

Specifically, he thought about all that she had to have gone through since he had granted her, Varania and Sharna freedom. She had to have gone through an entire pregnancy without him, raised his child without him while also supporting his mother. He wondered what it was like when she had heard that he had escaped Danarius and he never showed up at her door. Had she been angry with him? Had she cried? He wondered what it was like for her to discover that he had no memory of her. He wondered how she dealt with the death of her family.

He didn't know what it was like to be in love. But by watching Hawke and Merrill, he thought it must be fascinating, a gift to treasure for two people who were not constantly living in fear. He was secretly envious of them. If he had had a relationship like that with Astoria once, he could only imagine how crushed she must have felt. Something about this made his chest tighten. He wasn't used to people caring so deeply for him, if Varania's drawings gave any indication as to the depth of their relationship.

They were out of the Vimmark Mountains by now, and had spoken little since his outburst. They were both hungry, for game was scarce in the higher elevation, and the air was dry and cold. And though they spoke little, they still sparred at night, usually only straight hand-to-hand.

Astoria was sure that Fenris let her win sometimes, if only for a few moments before maneuvering some miracle in the blink of an eye where she found herself unable to move and would have to surrender. But he was patient with her, and surprisingly gentle, though that took some effort on his part. Fenris didn't know how to be gentle with people, or patient, but he was trying, and Astoria didn't complain or taunt him or criticize or preach. And for those things, he was grateful.

Fenris was finally settled and became accustomed to her company by the time they put the Vimmark Mountains behind them. She had seemed to adapt to him and understand him in a matter of days, and she automatically gave him a wide berth when he was in a foul mood and would joke with him when he wasn't. He was actually beginning to like her being around. There was something familiar about her always tugging at the edges of his mind since he had had those fleeting memories.

Every night he took the first watch and would spend his time being awake and alone looking at the drawings. Sometimes he wanted to look at the ones she held onto, but he didn't want to give her a false hope of him missing a life that he couldn't remember.

Even still, he could remember those drawings vividly, even if they weren't in his hands. In fact, the particular one of his mother's last night alive couldn't seem to leave his head. The boy's face was startlingly similar to his own, just much younger and human. There was no question he was Fenris', but he wondered if that was just due to Varania's interpretation of him. Maybe she had exaggerated his own features in the child because she missed him? He couldn't imagine Varania missing him, not when she went later and sold him out to Danarius.

He had remembered something, that much he knew. He didn't know what had caused it – was it holding her hand or looking at those particular drawings? He wasn't sure if he wanted to go down that road – chase down his memories like a hungry wolf. What if he didn't like what he remembered? Even worse, what if he liked them too much and... possibly found himself attached to this woman, the last remaining thread of his past life?

He didn't like that idea at all.

She didn't force anything on him, and he was appreciative of that. Astoria was always humming, or singing too softly for him to hear, and she rarely spoke to him when it was apparent he was lost in his thoughts.

He was busy stoking the fire on the fourth evening after looking through the drawings of Lysander, when Astoria came out from the trees dangling a rabbit in her hands.

"They're so cute, I feel terrible for killing them."

Fenris arched an eyebrow and caught the rodent as she tossed it to him. He would prepare it, and she would hunt it, and equally they would cook. That was their unspoken arrangement.

"I'm sure he understands," Fenris jested, taking one of Astoria's daggers as she offered it to him, making a cut down the rodent's back. She sat down beside him with a heavy sigh and groaned, dropping her head in her hands.

Fenris chuckled at her behavior. The prospect of a hot meal had instantly boosted his spirits. "You kill people, but you feel guilty over a rabbit?"

"I don't kill people," she chided, wagging a finger at him, "I kill slavers."

Fenris smirked. "That's... something."

"I wish we had more mages on our side," she said, gazing out at the darkening forest.

"What?" Fenris asked with a frown as he continued working on the rabbit.

"Or templars even. To fight the magisters."

"Mages won't fight against each other. They'll take anything they can to rise in the ranks."

"Well, I know your sister is a shining example of that, but... they're not all so bad, do you think?"

"Yes. Well," Fenris amended, waving the dagger as he gestured, "Hawke's sister, Bethany, was a good mage."

"Was?"

"She passed away in the Deep Roads."

"I'm sorry."

Fenris looked sidelong at her beside him. "Do you know any mages or templars that could help?"

Astoria chuckled, but her face was grim. "My brother is a templar."

Fenris narrowed his eyes, studying her expression. "And...?"

"And that's all." She shrugged nonchalantly. "He was moved from the Ferelden circle tower to Kirkwall a couple years ago."

"You didn't see him when you were in Kirkwall?"

Astoria frowned. "No."

"Why?"

Astoria rubbed her forehead, looking conflicted. "I... uh... don't think he'd like to hear from me, actually. I ran away from my home, remember?"

It was clear she didn't want to talk about this, so he didn't press her. At the very least, he felt like he could relate on one level or another.

"Do you know any others?"

"No, I don't know many mages or templars, except for the ones who are already helping us. And then of course, there is your sister."

Fenris scowled, his mood darkening immediately. "Are you suggesting that we go to Varania for help?" His voice was laced with ice and it made her grimace.

"Er... I... oh, Varania doesn't _like_ the Imperium, Fenris. The only reason she offered herself up for apprenticeship was because she really had little other choice unless she was to become a slave again."

"Don't justify what she did!" Fenris was fuming already.

"I'm not," Astoria answered calmly, hoping that her affect would rub off on him. "She practically shit on the gift you gave her – she sold you out and she is awful for doing that. I am only saying that she was trying to do what she could to survive."

Fenris shoved the spit through the rabbit a bit too forcefully and propped it up over the fire, cleaning his hands off with cold water in the river beside them and wiping them dry with a rag. He couldn't look at Astoria. He felt livid, his lyrium pulsing dully.

"Where is she now?" He asked, eyeing the river.

"Varania? Uh... I don't know, actually."

"She didn't tell you?"

"Last I knew, she had left Kirkwall, but I don't know where she was going after that. She's an apostate anywhere outside of Tevinter, so she might even be in the Circle now."

Fenris nodded, feeling himself calming down. Then he thought of something.

"Does she know that you've come to find me?"

"I'm sure she assumes I have," Astoria said after a moment of thought, "but she doesn't know for sure. I never responded to her once I learned that she had led Danarius to you. She knows who I associate with, but I doubt she would contact them."

He felt guilty for losing his temper, even if it was only for a couple moments. "Well, thank you." He sighed and went to the fire, turning the spit over so the other side of the rabbit could get cooked as well. "It's nice to have someone on my side."

Astoria smiled, digging her heels into the ground, which was substantially softer than at the tops of the mountains. "You have a lot of people on your side, Fenris, you just don't know it."

His gaze flickered between her and the rabbit before he sighed again, wishing he could go sit and be alone with his thoughts and a bottle of Aggregio. She was right, though, and he knew it though it wasn't something he would have admitted to himself.

"Do you have that letter?" He asked.

Astoria arched an eyebrow at him. "What letter?"

"The one that Varania sent you after she met me? You said that she sent you a letter."

Astoria seemed to consider how to answer him. "I do, actually."

"May I see it?"

Astoria seemed hesitant, but she finally nodded slowly. "It's in the stack I let you look at a few nights ago, but you never got to that one." She dug through her pack and held it out to him to take. "It's at the bottom. I'm sorry. I can't... look through those."

Fenris sat down, angling himself away from the fire so that he could use the flames to light the paper. He recognized Varania's handwriting from their own correspondence before meeting. Taking a breath, hoping it would prepare him, he started to read.

_Astoria,_

_ I met with Leto at the Hanged Man. He looks different – white hair, white markings all over his body (lyrium warriors truly do look terrifying). He brought a human man and a Dalish mage girl. From what I understand Leto isn't with her, I think the girl is with the human. I think he knew it was a trap, or else he would have come by himself. I don't blame him. He goes by Fenris now._

_ I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but Danarius came with me. He used me to trap Leto. I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice. I couldn't tell you because you'd stop me. I'm so sorry, Astoria, I know you deserve better than to hear about how terrible I am through a letter. You've done so much for all of us. But I was hoping that, at least he would come willingly and not get hurt in the process, and I was planning on watching over him and making sure he would be safe._

_ He killed Danarius, and tried to kill me too, but his friends told him not to. A dwarf who had been watching me before Leto's arrival was fighting with them, and I gathered that his name was Varric. I would suggest looking for him if you want to find Leto – he seems to know everyone at The Hanged Man, and to be friends with Leto. Leto let me go, but only because his friends told him to, I think. I've never been so scared in my life. I didn't tell him about you. I should have, I'm sorry, but I was too scared – I ran for my life and didn't think to say much else._

_ I never wanted to do that to him or you, but I'm sorry. I had no choice. But he seems to be doing well for himself. I envy him._

_ I've left Kirkwall. If you ever see him, please tell him I am deeply sorry._

_ Thank you, Astoria, for everything you've ever done for us. I cannot face you after what I've just done. Please forgive me. Mother must wish that she had you as a daughter instead of me. You would never have betrayed him like that. You will always be a sister to me._

_Varania_

It took all of his self-control not to throw the vellum into the fire, but he did rip it at the side accidentally. "Venhedis," he muttered, shoving the letter towards Astoria. He couldn't look at it.

"Are you alright?" Astoria asked, taking the letter and carefully folding it.

"I hate her."

He clenched his fists before he stretched his fingers, alternating between these two movements, breathing to calm himself. Then he turned around to face Astoria and peered at her sternly. "Why did you keep that?"

Astoria shrugged, cautious under his fierce gaze. "The same reason I keep all things like that. To remember, I suppose. To have something to give to you. If something happens to Varania, this is the only apology you'll ever have from her."

He growled low in his throat, feeling a shiver running through him. He realized Astoria's hand was on his arm, comforting and gentle.

He stared at her hand, as if it were something foreign and unusual. Then he met her gaze and a look of defiance was in his eyes, and it was coupled with a desperate longing to release frustration. "Let's spar." He offered, but the added pleading in his eyes was not lost on her. He needed to do something or he'd implode.

Her answering grin was all he needed.

That session had been quite intense. Whenever they sparred hand-to-hand, Fenris tried to be gentle. On that night, he found it difficult. He was so angry at everything, with the cruel way the universe seemed to constantly mock and tease him. He wanted nothing more than to punch something, but the sparring forced him to reign in his anger and channel it through more controlled, thought-out movements.

He couldn't get the letter out of his head, even with the concentration the sparring demanded from him. It was like a double-edged sword being driven through his heart. He knew why Astoria had said that he might not like what he'd find.

_You would never have betrayed him like that._

At one point he was straddling her with her wrists in his hands, and instead of jumping off her instantly like he normally did, he felt himself smirking at her flushed cheeks and big eyes, her pupils dilated and her breathing heavy and ragged underneath him.

_I couldn't tell you because I know you'd stop me._

Would she have stopped Varania if she knew that she'd be leading him into a trap with Danarius? He wondered. It heartened him that someone was on his side, that someone would defend him.

Astoria was a better person than he had thought originally. He couldn't help but begin to believe that perhaps, long ago, he had in fact been enamored with this woman. Not only enamored but perhaps he really had loved her.

And the anger was gone. The frustration and rage that he had felt upon finishing the letter was gone and all that was left was him straddling her on the ground, both tired from sparring.

He caught her looking at his lips for a second longer than what should be normally acceptable. Keenly aware of this, Fenris felt uncomfortable; not because he didn't like it (which was startling in and of itself), but because he felt his ears and cheeks burning in a faint blush. Fenris did _not_ blush.

And so he got off her quickly and stalked over to the fire. "I think the rabbit is burning."

Astoria chuckled softly to herself as she got up, cherishing that fleeting smirk he had had that was so familiar and long ago.


	10. Fond Memories

**I promised you all a happy chapter, and here it is! =) Enjoy and thank you to Kira Tamarion, Billini, PhoenixTheirin and Wicked Lullaby for the reviews!**

"Ah, Wilder!" Astoria shouted the next morning as the heat of the day finally began to settle on the land. The river beside them was rushed through the birch trees and birds sang loudly and everywhere; the forest clamored. A grin spread across the woman's face as she turned to Fenris.

"Wilder?"

"It's the village, there, see it?" Astoria was pointing through the trees upstream. Fenris squinted and looked ahead. Sure enough, a building with a thatched roof was vaguely visible. They had come upon civilization, and it felt as if it had been years since Fenris had seen another person.

"Oh."

Astoria clapped her hands excitedly and flashed him a wide grin. "I'm so glad. We made it here without a hitch."

Fenris smiled briefly as they approached the town; a small village with a few homes and a tavern at its center. The tavern served doubly as an inn and a market. The village sat on the shores of a large lake that glistened bright and blue under the hot sun. Smoke drifted from a chimney and children ran about laughing.

"You've been here?"

"Yes, on my way to Kirkwall." Astoria turned to Fenris after gazing out at the familiar village. He stood quietly behind her and to the right, hunching in on himself defensively. He nodded when he noticed she was looking.

"Something wrong?" She asked, eyeing him cautiously.

"No."

She nodded in understanding. "Don't worry, it's safe here." Fenris relaxed his posture and Astoria continued. "Do you want to come with me? I'm going to trade the furs we have for some ale."

"Ale?" The corner of his mouth tilted in a smirk.

"If you don't laugh, you cry." She shrugged with a grin. "Never underestimate the power of a good drink on a long journey."

He snorted, bemused, and gestured for her to lead the way to the tavern.

"How did you learn to read, by the way?" Astoria asked as she sat down beside Fenris on the pier with two new ales, handing him one. He wasn't sure how many exactly she had had, but she was drinking quickly, and talking much louder, slurring slightly. Near belligerent.

It was amusing, to say the least.

"Hawke taught me," Fenris answered, arching an eyebrow at her. The late afternoon sun was playing across her skin, the lake glistening and shimmering in vast sheets before them, wide and flat and beautiful. The day had been pleasant– Astoria rented a room for them and they both took turns bathing (while one bathed, the other went downstairs in the tavern for a pint) and washing their armor.

"How long did it take you?"

"About two years." Then he smirked. "To get the hang of it anyway. I read the Book of Shartan first."

"You're kidding."

"No," he answered, absentmindedly swinging his feet over the wooden pier. A sense of pride and satisfaction flared in him, and he almost blushed.

"Well that's great, Fenris, I'm glad for you."

He pressed his lips in a tight line and narrowed his eyes, turning to look at the enormous lake before them framed in the distance by green hills. A rowboat pushed towards the shore not far from them holding two elven men chuckling to themselves, pleased with the day's catch. Fenris watched them curiously.

"Your mother almost named him Shartan."

It took a moment for him to understand what she had said, and when he did he couldn't find words immediately. His bright eyes turned to her in disbelief. Astoria laughed and nodded her head in confirmation.

"She only didn't because, well, first of all, having a child in Tevinter named 'Shartan,' isn't exactly a good way to keep a low profile. But more than that, she wanted to honor your actions – so she named him Lysander instead. 'He who is freed.'"

Fenris felt a heavy lump forming in his throat, and he stared at the ale in his hands. Every day the situation became more real to him, more dramatic and emotional. The way Astoria made it sound, it was as if he had been the shining light in his sister's, mother's and wife's lives. He couldn't imagine meaning that much to someone, so much that one's absence seemed to shake the core beings of those left behind.

It made him feel guilty for leaving them, and it made him feel frustrated because he had given such a sacrifice, and in the end it seemed to have helped no one. He had suffered the most agonizing pain and spent two years in servitude after losing all of his memories. While it had made him feel angry before, that he had given up so much only to be sold out by Varania in the end, now he wasn't so sure. Maybe Varania had had some insight when she claimed he got the better end of the deal. Surely, he imagined, Astoria had dealt with enough emotional pain since his absence to rival his. He couldn't help but wonder if they were even, that they didn't owe each other anything.

"Are you all right?" Her voice reeled him in back to reality as he considered many things. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound so dramatic all of the time."

Fenris frowned, searching her blue eyes. "No, it's not... I apologize if I seem... indifferent, or cold. I'm not."

Astoria shrugged and considered him softly. "No, I understand, Fenris. It must be difficult when you can't remember having those feelings – for any of us, and I don't just mean myself. I know that just listening to me tell you about them won't... make you the same person you used to be, but I just... you seem so _sad_, Fenris. You weren't always so."

He sighed and put his ale down on the wood of the pier. There was nothing he could find to say, so he said nothing. The silence that stretched between them was long but comfortable, and the both of them simply just enjoyed the afternoon as either of them had not done in an endless amount of time.

Then Astoria continued, because well, she was tipsy. "Oh, I remember you so clearly. You were a little demon, you were."

Fenris smirked and looked sidelong at her to find her smiling warmly at a memory and gazing at him, her eyes nearly sparkling as the sunlight slanted onto them head-on. "Sorry?" He managed.

She laughed. "Just like that! That's how you'd get your mother. She could never be angry with you when you smirked. Her biggest weakness, she used to say."

Fenris felt his chest tighten and words suddenly became so hard to find. He couldn't bring his eyes away from her as he waited for her to continue. When she saw that he hadn't tensed or scowled, she did.

"This one time... oh, Maker, I thought you were going to get caught and get us all killed."

Beside her, Fenris tensed like a coiled spring, his grip tightening around his mug as Astoria continued, oblivious.

"You stole the oldest bottle of wine from Mavion's cellars that you could find, and you got Varania drunk. It was her birthday, and she was only fifteen, but you swore she was old enough. She ended up getting sick in Mavion's stew! Of all things!"

"What?" Fenris asked incredulously. Astoria chuckled and wiped a tear from her eye, looking at him warmly. He immediately worried, wondering all of the terrible things that could have happened. Surely Varania had gotten reprimanded somehow. "What happened?"

"Oh, Leto," she said with a chuckle, before her face fell dramatically. "I – I'm sorry!"

"No, go on." He frowned.

"Fenris, Fenris," she said, as if practicing his name would push "Leto" out of her recent memory. "Well, your mother practically chased you down with a broom, she was so angry. It ended very anticlimactically with you both laughing."

She chuckled for a couple seconds, and Fenris gazed down at his ale uncertainly. "I don't understand. I stole an expensive bottle of wine, Varania threw up in our master's food – and we _laughed_ about it?"

Realization swept over Astoria's face. "It was different there. Mavion was one of the kinder souls – still not exactly compassionate, but better than others. But the slaves there, we were all a family essentially. We never told on each other."

Fenris considered this for a long time as the sun seemed to touch the horizon in the far distance. He found it easy to smile at the romanticized version of his life that Astoria gave – if it were true, it wasn't that awful, in retrospect. Even though he had been a slave, he had been daring enough to steal things from Mavion – and that spoke volumes in and of itself. He would never have been able to do that with Danarius. With Danarius he had always been within sight, always a puppet on a string, always obedient and cooperative, and also always unhappy.

"Did I know that I was going to get these markings?" He asked suddenly as the question surfaced in his mind.

Astoria shook her head, her mood dropping just a bit. "All you knew was that you could free the three of us, though _my_ freedom took some convincing. You only knew about the boon. That's all any of us knew."

He nodded, feeling his mood darken almost instantly. Seeming to pick up on this, Astoria cleared her throat.

"Mavion never even noticed the difference in the taste."

He quirked a dark eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Never. It became a long-running joke with all of us."

He huffed half a laugh and looked out on the sparkling waters of the lake stretched out long and wide before them. Beside him Astoria finished her glass of ale and slammed it down forcefully on the wood beside her. She slumped against the pier and dangled her legs over its edge, her still damp hair splayed out on the wood where her head lay. She began humming, interlacing her fingers over her stomach as she shut her eyes.

Fenris liked her drunk, he realized. Just like he liked her otherwise. She was not afraid to test him, and in a world where most normal people feared him, he actually appreciated her boldness.

A small smile crept over his face while he listened to her, and for the first time he wasn't contemplating running away, he was only focused on _being._ The afternoon gave away to the evening, and darkness shrouded Wildervale. The village lit up its lanterns and fell into a sleepy night, while Fenris and Astoria stayed on the pier and silently watched the stars.


	11. Obligations

**A/N - thank you again for your wonderful reviews Kira Tamarion, Billini and Wicked Lullaby! Keep 'em coming please! =)**

The comforts that civilization brought only lasted that night. Wilder had been hospitable, but Fenris noticed that it seemed to be only a formality, as the two of them were encouraged to keep to themselves and be out quickly. They left the next morning and traveled along the western edge of the lake, and traveled north from there. By the time night fell upon Wildervale, they were on the other side of the lake, the distant sparkle of Wilder's lanterns like a candle in the far distance.

Fenris gathered firewood as Astoria waded out into the lake and played around with a small net that he hadn't known she had.

Fenris doubted that she would be able to catch anything and he kept glancing at her in amusement as she stood there, still as a statue while he gathered up firewood. Once he had the fire going, he chuckled to Astoria.

"You know, I don't like fish." He explained.

Astoria made a sound in the back of her throat. "Oh, I know," she said, as if she was trying not to breathe, "This is for me."

Fenris frowned, again surprised that she knew so many little details about him. Long minutes passed, and Astoria struggled for a moment, the water splashing around her as she scooped the net up out of the water. A fish just slightly smaller than the length of his forearm writhed in the net, flailing and silently gasping.

With a feral grin, she stepped from the lake, water dripping down her legs and arm, where her leathers were rolled up to reveal her thin but toned calves. "Do you know why you hate fish?"

"The taste, of course."

Astoria smirked and shook her head in disagreement. "At Mavion's we would be given it when it was going bad. It always made you sick. But we had fresh fish once, and you actually liked it. I'm sure you wouldn't try it now."

The fish flailed for a few more moments before going limp as Astoria pulled it out by its tail and began to filet it beside the fire. Fenris watched her attentively from where he sat with his legs crossed, absentmindedly sharpening his blade with a stone.

She moved gracefully, her brow knit in careful concentration, completely oblivious to his steady gaze on her. Her fingers and blade worked while her toes tapped in the sand to a song only she could hear. Her hair was messy and wild, but it looked soft as she tucked a loose lock behind her ear using her wrist awkwardly as to not actually touch her hair with her fishy fingers.

She was far from flawless, but her beauty was not lost on himl. Fenris had an eye for this, but beauty meant little to him. He studied the curve of her cheek, the slope of her neck, the way she meticulously fileted the fish before setting it upon a stone propped up over the fire. But he lingered on her imperfections longer than her strong points, because for the first time he could actually see scars on her. Her knees were scarred as well as one of her ankles – like she had been severely burned some time ago.

It was then that she caught him staring.

"What's on my face?" She asked, immediately pawing at herself as if to remove any dirt.

"Nothing." Fenris answered too quickly. He realized this wasn't convincing, so he scrambled for something else. "I was wondering what that scar was from... on your ankle."

"Huh?" Then she looked at her foot and shrugged. "A magister threw a fireball at me, but missed... mostly."

"A magister? I assume he's dead then, if you survived."

She nodded and pride flashed behind her eyes. "Yes. The first one I've had a part in killing, actually – yet another magister stupid enough to try to leave Tevinter on some business with less than a dozen guards and acquaintances."

"Heh." Fenris looked down at his freshly sharpened blade and examined it in the firelight, the trees whispering in a light breeze around them. The forest of Wildervale oddly felt sheltering, like he didn't need to hide as much as he hid behind thick stone walls of Kirkwall. The air was fresh, and Astoria's knack for hunting had hardly left him feeling hungry. It was amazing how this nomadic, traveling life left so much free time that he could just be left to think sometimes.

Fenris was not a hunter. He knew this well from his years on the run. He couldn't sneak up on animals, as quiet as he was. It was like they could sense him – and a great sword wasn't the easiest weapon to sneak up on game with, as they tend to snag on branches and animals seem to have a natural aversion to them.

Fenris looked at Astoria as she examined the fish frying over the fire and flipped it with a dagger as well as the chicken she had bought in town for him. The food sizzled and he looked at her ankle again. It was so little damage to receive from someone so powerful.

"You are lucky." His voice seemed to bring her out of focus.

Astoria seemed puzzled, her brow furrowed as she turned to him. "What?"

"You are lucky that that is your only scar from the magisters."

"It isn't." She turned back to the fire without any more of an explanation and Fenris found himself at a loss for words, feeling like he had offended her.

"I... did not mean it like that," he amended after a moment of inner scolding. "I know you have lost much."

Astoria nodded slowly before shooting him a tight smile that did not reach her eyes. "I know." Then she sighed and knelt down in front of the fire, waiting on the food to be finished.

Fenris rubbed his forehead and scooted back against the nearest tree, laying his sword out beside him and tugging off his gauntlets. Astoria began humming softly to herself as she stood, seeming restless, and went to the water to wash her hands.

A few minutes later, he peered suspiciously at the small portion of fish beside his chicken on his wooden plate. It didn't smell quite like the gutted fish that laid out under the sun for a couple hours at the docks before being shipped off to the taverns and market in Kirkwall. He poked at it with the fork carefully and Astoria laughed from across the fireplace. His jade eyes fluttered to find her and a small sense of self-consciousness hit him as he realized she was watching him.

"It won't bite you, you know."

"We'll see," he countered with a faint smirk.

"And don't feign sickness to get out of our sparring tonight – I see right through you, Fenris."

He snorted. "You may regret that taunt later."

"Oh? A threat?"

"A statement."

Astoria chuckled, an odd and somehow sad gleam in her eyes, and nodded towards his food. "Just try it."

Fenris took a bite of the fish and waited a few moments, expecting himself to practically immediately regurgitate it. It never happened, and Maker, it actually didn't taste as horrible as he'd imagined.

"I still prefer scrawny hare, but this will do," he conceded eventually. "Thank you."

Astoria smiled with pride and bit into her food, stretching out before the fire as they ate in their common silence. The only sounds were the owls in the forest, the cackling of the wood snapping under the flames and the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore.

"I hope you have a plan," Fenris said calmly as he put his plate down beside him and crossed his ankles.

"I do. I have connections in the rebellion that can point us in the right direction, hopefully. They've been keeping an ear out for Lysander since he was taken away."

Fenris quirked an eyebrow curiously. "I don't understand... how did you become involved with them?"

Astoria tilted her head as she pieced together her memories. "Well... it was when your..." she looked up at him uneasily, "are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I feel as though I talk about your mother and sister so much... It must be difficult to hear."

He frowned, scrutinizing her. "No, go on."

Astoria took a deep breath. "When you freed us... naturally we had nowhere to go. We lived in Minrathous for a short time – but it's too dangerous there for free elves, so we left. We travelled south, and at nighttime I'd have to go steal crops from the farms to feed your mother and sister."

Her eyes flickered to his and she felt uncomfortable under his fierce gaze, but he continued listening to every word.

"One night, I stole from a farm and I was caught. Alone."

"Why were you alone?" Fenris interrupted.

"Varania was with your mother."

"Why?"

Astoria's gaze grew sad and pleading as she looked at Fenris. "You were your mother's shining light. When you gave yourself up... it nearly killed her. We couldn't leave her alone. It's not that she would kill herself, she said that 'she wasn't that selfish,' but we just couldn't."

Again he felt his chest tighten as he imagined this.

"She'd wander, she'd sob for hours on end, she'd become... delirious. Grief does awful things to people, Fenris."

He swallowed audibly, shutting his eyes briefly before nodding for Astoria to continue.

"Well... I was caught – and I thought they were going to kill me. It was a handful of armored elves. But I was pregnant, I mean, visibly pregnant. They let me take the food and told me to leave."

Fenris nodded, imagining this scenario in his mind. "That's lucky."

She smiled, and he felt the corners of his own lips twitching in response. "Well, Lysander saved my life. For the first time I was actually glad to have him." She scoffed into her palm, eyes tearing. "I sound like a terrible mother." Before Fenris could reply, she continued. "Anyway, I told Sharna and Varania what had happened. I knew we couldn't live like that – what if I got caught again and they did kill me?

"So I went back to the farm in the morning alone. I asked for a job, I told them about my case – that my husband had freed the three of us and we needed work. They were sympathetic and interested, and explained to me that they were part of a movement, a resistance to the oppressive Tevinter regime."

Her eyes gleamed in something like admiration as she remembered. "Naturally, I wanted to work for them – do what they did, you know? So they let the three, well, four of us if you include Lysander stay in a barn near the woods. We were able to make our own apartment in it, make it our own home. There wasn't room for all of us in the house with the others – and it served as a safe haven for the rebels that travelled in the area."

"You lived in a barn there, on the same land as the rebels?"

"Yes. We maintained the land and the crops while they were away, and eventually they let me manage things for them. I began to run things there – send messages between groups of the rebellion, help to communicate and intervene on slave shipments."

"And the magisters never found out?"

Astoria frowned. "When Lysander was four years old, Danarius appeared at our door with a small army."

Fenris tensed, subconsciously leaning towards her with interest.

"He was looking for you. I guess it had taken him a year to find us, and you had been missing for two years. Anyway, he saw that we lived in a barn and he looked around, looking for evidence of you. He saw Lysander."

She sniffed, on the verge of tears and Fenris felt his own fingers digging into his palms; his hands clenched subconsciously in tight fists.

"I begged Danarius not to take him, and he didn't. I'm not sure why he left him. He'd probably use Lysander to bait you, eventually. Then he left, and we thought we were safe."

She looked distantly at the fire, her voice cracking.

"Three years later, another magister showed up and took him away."

Fenris connected the dots mentally, and the guilt hit him like a physical blow, like a massive rolling wave against a rowboat. Lysander's capture felt like it was his fault, and he knew that while he hadn't meant to, his escape had set this event in motion. He felt obligated to Astoria now, in a way that left him feeling ashamed.

He would have given Varania everything. It was a sad truth that lingered on the edges of his mind constantly. If Varania had not betrayed him, he would have done the world for her. Astoria was no less deserving. In fact, he reluctantly admitted to himself that she deserved it even more with all that she's done. His reservations on the matter were more directed at the impossible task that lay ahead.

But he had chosen this. He knew, and still does, that this path of knowing his past and knowing someone from it could lead to a tragic end. But he had chosen it and he didn't regret that choice.

Fenris relaxed his fists when Astoria stood up and walked to him. His palms were pricked and bleeding from his nails, but he put them flat on his legs. He saw the burn on her ankle, a blaring testament to her impossible struggles.

"Come, get up. Don't be grumpy." She nudged his leg with her burnt foot.

Fenris couldn't speak, still. Words were impossible, he wasn't sure if he was even breathing properly. He went unresponsive, in a daze, aware but not able to react.

She nudged him again. "I'm not sparring by myself."

He wanted to chuckle. He really did. But he was staring at her burn, and he felt angry and guilty and foolish.

"I told you that you can't use eating fish as an excuse to get out of sparring. Come."

She leaned down and shook him by the shoulder gently. "Fenris."

His deep and bright jade eyes seemed immense when they turned to her. He swallowed audibly and nodded, shakily getting to his feet.

**Spoiler Alert - I finally watched a video of Fenris killing Varania (I always keep her alive), and I was heartbroken at what he says to her. I had to end that in somewhere. On a side note, I looked up what "Astoria" means, and it means "Like a hawk." The irony kills me.**


	12. Astoria

**(MAKE SURE YOU READ THE LAST CHAPTER - it never alerted anyone that it ever happened.)**

**A/N - Thank you to Madame Lovely for the review on last chapter! Something bugged out with FF and there was no alert sent out to anyone who's "watching" this, so I figured I'd submit the next chapter. Which means, if you didn't get an e-mail about the last chapter, you may want to read it.**

**That being said, I'm trying something. This chapter is from Astoria's POV. Tell me what you think and if you think I should do a couple more of these. It's short.**

Panting, I look at Leto where he stands, poised and ready for me to make an aggressive move – one that he would easily counter and put me on my back in the sand in a flash. He is lit up only dimly by the firelight to my left, the lake's rippling shore on my right, his markings dimly shimmering, but not glowing. He hasn't glowed in my presence in a while and I take this as a small step towards trust between us.

My toes curl in the sand as I determine my next move in the steady quiet of the night.

Maker's breath, he is a beautiful man still, after all these years. His lyrium markings are new and startling, but so is his snow-white hair, and I find that both are only beautiful. As new as these are the brooding glares he cast out all around him, the rapt focus he seemed to never let go of, the fierce vigilance he has even around me – as if I haven't seen him at his most vulnerable. He wasn't always like this. He used to trust me, used to tell me everything.

Every time he looks at me, I think I'm going to erupt into pathetic tears. His gaze rips into me, and I can't stop thinking: _Leto, my Leto, my love_ and then all I want to do is _beg him to hold me, to tell me he remembers_.

But he doesn't. And I can't bring the memories out of him any more than I can force the sun down.

I bound towards him, my hands striking out as rapidly as I can manage in my weary state. My left hand hits him in the ribs, but he has my right wrist in his grasp and is spinning me around, and suddenly I'm on my knees in the sand.

I sigh and elbow him. Not hard. I actually probably do more harm to myself in these training sessions than he does to me or I do to him. Still, it feels weird to actively try to attack him. I suppose it helps knowing that he can block anything I dish at him.

I'm proud of him, really. He is the most wonderful man, despite the shortcomings he has developed since I've last seen him – the violent tendencies and the distrust of anything that moves among them. He is a man that I have to get to know again, have to call a different name. It is so bittersweet.

I don't know what I had expected to find behind that door in Kirkwall, but it hadn't been him as he is today. My elbow jabs him.

"Again," he says behind me gruffly. That voice has haunted my dreams for nine years, and I am so glad I can actually hear it now. He backs off me and I get back to my feet, turning to look at him.

He's looking at me with that smirk that I love dearly. He always had that smirk. He has it in the drawing where I'm braiding Sharna's hair and he's flicking a pebble off his palm at his sister off to the side. He smirked like that all the time – when he'd reveal a stolen, half-emptied bottle of wine from Mavion's gatherings, or when he put that crown of flowers on my head the night his mother married us, or whenever he'd lead me off to a quiet, private place during hot afternoons for us to...

I can't think about those times.

I let him come for me first, and it takes a while. He is lightning-fast, a whirlwind that plummets and I can only brace myself and answer each hit (which are gentle) with my own – though I fail miserably after a few counters and find myself on the sand again, shamed.

"You're distracted," he accuses, holding a hand out in offering to help me up. I take it and get to my feet. After the conversation we've just had, I'm not sure if he's exactly the one that should be saying this to me, but rather the other way around.

"Yes."

I look at him again, only this time I feel myself frowning. I hate that I took him away from a life that he seemed... content with, though I use that term loosely. But everyone, including his friends, told me to explain to him what happened, that it was the right thing to tell him about his past, that he _wanted_ to know. I knew that he deserved to know, but I hadn't fully understood exactly what devastating impact that my appearance would have had on him. It makes me feel awful.

"Why?" He asks, and I wonder if that is actual, sincere sympathy in his voice, or if I am imagining it. I am probably imagining it.

"I'm not sure you'd really like to know," I answer honestly. Honesty has always worked with us before. I don't know how to deal with this new Fenris, so I go by my old ways of dealing with Leto. It seems to work sometimes.

He gazes at me for a few moments, and I can't help but notice how the years of experience have altered his stare. There is no more affection in them, no more love and joy and carelessness. Now he is cold and hard and fierce, like how he was in the last few weeks at Mavion's. Sometimes I see tiny flashes of his old self. When he smirks, when he jests, the way he chews his food and the way he looks when he is intently focused in concentration. He makes the same face that Lysander makes, and it breaks my heart every time I see it.

Sometimes I want to _shake_ the memories back into him, but part of me protests that that won't work, and I'm sure that part of me is at least correct. Still, if I could just show him what I did for him and his family once he was gone... he surely wouldn't be so sour about following me to the Imperium.

I cared for his mother all the way to her death while her selfish daughter acted more for her own benefit than anything – something I never plan on admitting fully to Leto. In the end, I think Varania has some good in her. I was part of the reason both of those women had a place to live and eat and remain free – and Leto was the rest of the reason. Part of me should demand payment from Varania, some way or another. Part of me should resent her, but I can't. She was like a sister to me for so long, one of two women to comfort me when I lost Leto and gained a son that I didn't know how to take care of.

In short, I gave up everything for the three of them – and now I'm left with none of them, and only a young son to look after, and I have failed at that. I've failed at protecting the most important thing to me. I don't think Leto owes me anything, but I _need _this, I need some resemblance of my old life – and apparently I will trek halfway across Thedas to achieve that.

The man in front of me nods in understanding and I know he won't press me further for answers. _Thank you,_ I want to tell him. He always knew when not to press, and more importantly, when to. He heads back to the camp, rolling his shoulders and stretching, windmilling his arms slowly twice before dropping more wood onto the fire and settling into the ground.

I lay down on the sand. It's springtime here in a place that is always warm, and I don't need to be near the fire. I shut my eyes, but when I peek out at Leto later, I see him looking through the drawings again, like he does every night when he thinks I'm asleep. He's always so focused on them, hunched over, examining them with intensity that I had even never given them, because they cause me too much pain.

Sometimes I see which ones he's staring at, but most times I don't because he's usually opposite the fire to me. He folds them with a gentleness that I didn't know he could possess when he does put them away, tucks them delicately into the sack and then rubs his temples.

I can't help the tears when I see him do this, so I roll onto my side to turn away and tell myself that his interest in his past life means nothing. I tell myself that the man I loved nine years ago died when he stepped into that coliseum, ready to kill anyone to provide three women with a freedom he knew he would not enjoy.

But he is still here beside me and therefore nothing is impossible but I am still more lonely than I have been in years.


	13. Tantervale

**A/N - Make sure you read Chapter 11 - it has only a handful of hits, especially compared with the newest chapter, I just don't want anyone to miss it.**

**Thank you to Kira Tamarion, Billini, Wicked Lullaby, and Madame Lovely for the reviews! =)**

They came upon the city of Tantervale a week later – a city much like Kirkwall perched on the southern banks on the wide Minanter River. They were let into the city without a problem, and stood in a busy street where people bustled by. The towering city loomed over them, though not quite as gloomy as the City of Chains.

Fenris was nervous now, and in every step he took north he heard a warning.

The daunting task that lay before them seemed about ready to swallow him whole. They were in the last safe city before Tevinter, and Fenris wasn't sure how much further he could go. It was his instinct, rearing its ugly head and nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"I have not missed this place," Fenris said once they were inside the city gates, the smoky smell of wood burning and vegetables wafting through the streets.

"You've been here?" Astoria asked him, frowning as she let her gaze sweep over the sight before them.

"On my way to Kirkwall."

"I am not excited to be here either. It isn't... the greatest place, but I personally like it more than the dreadful City of Chains. Of all places... you went there? Seems ironic."

Fenris snickered, but his gaze was passing between the other people in the city, looking for any shady characters that he may have to watch for, any threats, any maroon – because maroon always meant Tevinter slavers. "I couldn't tell you why I chose to go there, actually."

"Well, I have some... associates here, if you will. We should go see them."

Fenris froze and stared down at Astoria beside him accusingly. "Associates? You've been hiding something."

"No," Astoria disagreed, her voice low and just barely audible, though the city bustled around them in a dull roar as they continued walking. "I haven't hid anything. I told you I worked with rebels. There is a base here, a sort of gathering place for any escaped slaves."

"I was not aware it was here." He admitted.

"Well, forgive us for not going about posting signs about public meetings."

"Fair enough."

Astoria chuckled. "Though I wish you had known about them, perhaps we need to be more in the open."

"I've never sought out the rebels."

"Probably for the best, so you don't get caught up in all of this insane slaver hunting business." Astoria waved her hand dismissively as a merchant waved a necklace at her.

"Am I not already?" Fenris wondered, shooting a glare at the merchant. People were giving them a relatively wide berth as they noticed his markings and stared at him, half in awe and half in horror. He didn't like the attention, but he didn't like people crowding him either.

"You can always turn around and go back to Kirkwall. I would not hold it against you." Astoria explained softly, though he noted that her voice wavered slightly.

He shook his head and followed along with her, not replying. He knew what would happen if he went back to Kirkwall at this point. It was too late. He knew too much about them now – about his family and his past, to dismiss her. If he left he would always wonder, and he knew how much it would bother him.

Knowing nothing about his past had haunted him enough. Now – with the opportunity of learning more at his fingertips, it was too tempting to walk away knowing that he would always regret it on some level if he did.

Astoria led him to the alienage. It was the last place in Thedas, Fenris realized immediately, that he wanted to be. This part of the city was just as run-down as Kirkwall's alienage, but it was three times the size. It worked as a common destination for elves that escape the Imperium – the last safe city before the long fingers of influence of Tevinter.

Some of the elves appeared strong and their gazes were hard, to his surprise. Some carried weapons, some stood at the street corners just watching. These ones waved to Astoria, their watchful eyes flickering to Fenris often.

"You know them?" Fenris asked in a voice so low that he had to repeat himself, leaning closer to Astoria.

"Somewhat. There's a sentry system here – it's a good way to keep watch for the guard and... you know, unwanted guests, slavers. The elves on the corners, if they see anything, they'll warn us at the base."

"The base?"

"Where the Tantervale branch of the rebellion operates."

"Oh."

They stopped outside of a dilapidated building, almost like a warehouse with old walls and a cracked wooden sign in the front. Astoria turned to Fenris, who was staring with intensity at the building, particularly at the sign that spelled out "Orphanage."

"How are you doing?"

"What is this place?"

"It is our base."

"Not an orphanage?" He pointed at the sign, confused and frowning at her.

"It is, but that's partly a cover-up. Come, I'll show you." Astoria took a step towards the heavy and aged wooden doors, but Fenris hadn't moved. "There are children that live here, but they don't belong to the rebels, for the most part. You don't have to talk to them."

A surge of panic nearly overwhelmed him. This place seemed shady, dark – like a_ trap_. Memories of all the years he had been chased resurfaced, all the times slavers had tried luring him and trapping him, baiting him. Only by his wits, speed, stealth and force had he been free for so long.

He stood there with his heart hammering in his chest. Was she trapping him? Was this an elaborate scheme?

Astoria frowned and her blue eyes conveyed a sadness that had clearly been there for years. She stepped towards him and reached out tentatively, her eyes steady on his own, measuring his reaction. Astoria squeezed his upper arm gently and withdrew her hand. Fenris inhaled sharply at the touch, his jaw set. He tensed, ready to reach for his sword behind him in case anyone jumped out around them.

"Fenris," she said softly, "this is the safest place for us to be this side of the Waking Sea."

He felt his toes curling as he prepared to run. Astoria watched him for a moment, and then ducked her head. She turned and pushed on the heavy door.

The sound of children laughing and screaming spilled into the streets for a moment before the door shut slowly behind her and she was gone.

He stood there for a moment and realized that she was giving him a choice. On one hand he could turn around and walk away and there would be no harm done, no way she could follow him or track him. On the other hand he could follow her inside and walk this uncertain path with her.

He almost turned away. He would not be where he was today if not for turning away.

With a deep breath, he stepped into the building, the sound of the door slamming shut behind him sounding infinitely final.

**Sorry it's so short, there will be another up by Wednesday at the latest. As always, thanks for reading! =)**


	14. Chaos

**A/N: Hello! And thank you to Madame Lovely and Billini, along with everyone else who reviews! I appreciate them and they motivate me so much even if I'm stuck in a part of this story. Let me know what you think, as always! =)**

The orphanage was immensely dark inside, and it took a couple seconds for their eyes to adjust. Astoria smiled at him from just a couple feet away. It was clear she hadn't expected him to follow her inside into this complete and utter chaos.

There were half a dozen children playing in this large, dark room with an older elven woman who looked exhausted and wore a dirty apron. The woman scolded them, the wrinkles on her features just barely visible and tried to steer them in one direction. The children ran around like rabid squirrels, chittering and screaming and laughing.

Fenris was watching Astoria with intensity, trying to gauge from her expression if this chaos was expected. He noticed that a wide smile had spread across her face as she looked at the older woman with the children, and she seemed like she was at home.

"They don't see us yet," she said just loud enough for him to hear, her voice excited as she gestured to the clamor around her. "Enjoy this."

The sublime few seconds of not being noticed ended quickly, and as if on cue, a loud and young male voice called from across the room.

"Andraste's ass, Astoria, is that you?"

Fenris jerked his gaze towards the sound defensively. A young elven man with a short dark mohawk and dark eyes approached them wearing peasant clothes, but with long daggers hanging from his belt. He was grinning widely, sauntering over with an almost arrogant confidence.

Astoria rolled her eyes and the room burst into unspeakable chaos and clamor of a new level. The children shrieked in joy, finally realizing who was in the room. They ran at Astoria, and Fenris backed up to give them room, not sure if he was more irritated or frightened. Six children came to a blundering halt and embraced Astoria, shouting and asking questions in their high and young voices.

A little blond elven girl about the age of five let go of Astoria and turned to Fenris, who had been watching the scene in amusement from a short distance. Her bright, large amber eyes watched him curiously. He forced a tight-lipped smile at her and she grinned like he had just given her the greatest gift.

The older elven woman came swooping over like a harpy, shooing away the children. All ran screaming from Astoria, their laughter high-pitched and irritating in response to the harpy. The blond girl stayed in front of Fenris, watching him attentively with a gaze that seemed older than she was.

"You too, Siri, give the man peace!" The woman shouted, waving her hands dramatically at the little girl. Astoria grinned and straightened as she brushed off her leathers, watching Fenris with amusement. He rolled his eyes, feigning discontent as the girl turned and walked away with her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

The young man stopped in front of Astoria and glanced between her and Fenris. "Good to see you back, lady." The man grinned at Fenris and stuck his hand out in greeting. "Name's Garsen."

"Fenris," he answered curtly with a nod, but clasped his hands behind his back, clearly not accepting the outstretched hand. Not missing a beat, Garsen nodded with a smile, respecting his privacy, and clasped a hand on Astoria's shoulder.

"I have to go meet with a guard. Eshan is in the war room, go see him before he sends the scouts after you. He's been complaining about you for days."

"Figures. Good luck with the guard," she said with a laugh as Garsen passed between them and out the door and into the alienage.

The older elven woman was trying to herd the children into another room, leaving the two in quiet. Astoria turned to Fenris apologetically, the brief chaos finally over as soon as it had begun.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice concealing a chuckle.

Fenris glanced around the dark room apprehensively. "I am unsure." It was an honest answer, if anything.

Astoria smiled reassuringly, reaching out and squeezing his arm. "You get used to the noise."

She turned and led him across the dark space, between two long wooden tables used for feeding roughly sixty people. Fenris wondered if it was ever filled as they slipped through a dim doorway and down a narrow hall which led up a flight of stairs, ending at another hall with several rooms on either side.

"The war room," Astoria said from in front of him, "is here." She pointed to a door with a copper knob and knocked heavily on it.

A moment later, the door opened revealing a middle-aged elf. His dark hair was short and small scars marred his tan skin. He peered at Astoria disapprovingly with sienna eyes from inside the room.

"You're back," he commented with a smirk. "I was about to send a rescue crew to find you."

"No need, Eshan." She replied with a polite but genuine smile.

The man, Eshan, turned and took in Fenris' appearance, his eyes lingering on the markings. "This is him?"

Astoria sighed long-suffering. "Have some tact, Eshan. Yes, this is Fenris."

"Fenris?" Eshan furrowed his brow at her. "I thought his name was Le-"

"He goes by Fenris. Fenris, this is Eshan. He's in charge of the Tantervale division of the resistance."

"I didn't know you were married to an elf, Astoria." He remarked, holding a hand out to Fenris. Fenris shook it firmly, sending a glance of irritation to Astoria. How much did they know about him?

She rolled her eyes at Eshan. "It doesn't matter that he's an elf."

"I know, I just... you keep _that_ from us? Of all things. No matter. Come on in." He stepped aside and Astoria went into the room, sparing an apologetic glance at Fenris behind her. He reluctantly followed, irritated with being there.

The room wasn't large by any means, but it had a large table with a detailed map of the Imperium and a stack of mail, disorganized and spread messily about. Parts of the map were marked with pebbles, indicating something that was beyond Fenris' understanding at the moment - be they small armies or whatever else. Eshan stepped around to the opposite side of the table and looked down at the vellum before him like a war general.

"Good to have you back," he said to Astoria, who only nodded and smiled. "We haven't heard anything about your son, I'm afraid. However... we just received some intelligence that there's going to be some sort of gathering with a lot of magisters."

Then Eshan glanced at Fenris, who stood slightly behind Astoria, curiously eyeing the map. "Can he hear this?"

Fenris snapped his attention at the man and hardened his gaze. Why wouldn't he be able to hear this?

"Yes, he's fine." Astoria answered, sounding mildly frustrated. "Go on."

"Well, I'm not sure if this gathering is going to be a conference or a ball or a meeting about Seheron – but there will be at least a dozen magisters there with most of their guards. This leaves several magister's homes open to attack. It's our golden opportunity."

Astoria interjected. "It has to be big, Eshan. We can't just invade one house if so many will be away – it has to be devastating. We don't have time to pick them off slowly."

Her commanding attitude surprised Fenris. It was as if her very presence in the room expanded. Eshan chuckled from across the desk and nodded. This was clearly not the first time Eshan had seen her like this, so determined.

"I agree. I still don't know when the event will be, but I don't think it's just yet. Either way, since you left, we've gained around twenty men and women. But they can't fight, not to the extent that we can. I need you to help train them with Garsen and the others."

Astoria nodded, biting on her bottom lip. Fenris didn't like that idea – that man, Garsen, seemed sleazy. She didn't seem bothered by this though, and she rummaged through her pack and drew out a sheet of vellum, unfolding it and laying it out in front of Eshan carefully.

"Which of these magisters is the most interested in lyrium warriors?" She asked Eshan, tapping her thin fingers to the sheet in front of him.

Fenris went absolutely still as he watched the exchange; Eshan looking confused as he read the list which Astoria had written at The Hanged Man. The list of Danarius' colleagues.

"I... I don't know, Astoria. Why, what is this?"

"I have reason to believe that it is one of those magisters that have taken my son."

Eshan nodded. Then he narrowed his gaze at Fenris. "Wait, you two need to fill me in. Fenris, is it? You were serving under Danarius, correct?" He glanced at Astoria for confirmation, but Fenris answered quickly.

"Yes."

Astoria gestured to Fenris and explained, "He's a lyrium warrior, Eshan. Whoever took Lysander probably knew Danarius, and had seen Fenris. Danarius knew that Fenris had a family, and he probably told someone."

"And these are...?"

"The magisters that Danarius was friendly with."

Eshan sighed. "I don't have any answers for you off the top of my head. Listen, let me look into it a bit. You should write up some letters to send to the heads of the different branches. Put the questions you want answers to on them."

"I will. Thank you. Eshan, do you have two rooms open?"

"Ask Caroline."

"Oh, Maker's breath, that woman..." Astoria chuckled and took the vellum back, turning back to Fenris. In a moment they were outside of the room and back in the hall, the door shut quietly behind them.

Fenris and Astoria simultaneously let out a breath in the cramped hallway.

"I have questions," Fenris said, his voice low but not angry or accusing.

"I have answers. I'm sure of it. Let me just get us our rooms, and then we can talk in private. Are you alright?"

"Yes."

She smiled and again squeezed his arm reassuringly. It was becoming a habit, he realized. It didn't bother him as much as he had expected. He always saw her making the move to touch him, and it gave him a brief moment to prepare. Fenris suppressed the shiver that threatened him from the touch.

He followed her back down the hallway towards the way they came and into the entry. The six children were seated; with Siri on the end, frowning at her plate as the elven woman stood over them and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Caroline," Astoria greeted her. Fenris saw Siri, the little blond girl, look up from her food and wave excitedly at him. He gave her a tight smile which made her giggle as she turned back to her food.

"Astoria, glad you're back, by the way. What do you need?"

"Thank you. I wanted to know if you have two rooms available?"

"Who's this?" Caroline ignored her question and turned to Fenris.

"This is Fenris."

"I thought you were bringing back your husband." Caroline narrowed her eyes at Astoria.

"This is him."

"Naw, that ain't right." Caroline cocked her head at him, whatever preconception of Astoria's husband that was in her head conflicting greatly with the man in front of her. If Eshan hadn't suspected a elf, Caroline probably hadn't either.

"He goes by Fenris, Caroline."

"Hello," Fenris said with a brief nod.

"Oh, alright. Hello. No, hun," she turned to Astoria, "I can give you _one_ room. That's it. For a few days at least. A group is going out soon to intervene on some smugglers, and other rooms will clear up."

"There isn't an extra room?"

Caroline quirked an eyebrow at them. "You're married anyhow, why do you need two rooms?"

Fenris' ears, he figured, were on fire but he kept his expression stoic. He wondered if no one else knew that he had lost his memory. What exactly had Astoria kept from everyone about her husband?

Astoria sighed, thankfully not noticing Fenris' reaction to the personal question. "Alright. Which room is it?"

"Last one on the left. Let me grab the key. One second, dear."

Caroline disappeared behind a door which swung to reveal a quick glimpse of a kitchen.

"Messere," Fenris heard a small voice call from the table. He looked down to see Siri waving him over. Beside him, Astoria chuckled and he took a few cautionary steps towards the little girl.

"Yes?" He asked. The girls' face lit up happily, pleased to be acknowledged.

"What are those?" Siri pointed to his markings. It was clear that she was fascinated by them. Fenris groaned, a frown clear on his face.

"Tattoos," he lied, because he wasn't sure if he could tell a five year-old all the horrors of lyrium warriors.

"They're pretty!" She replied, leaning towards him to see them closer, her blond curls bouncing against her shoulders. Fenris took a quick step back, mouth gaping as he turned to Astoria for help. No one had called his markings "pretty" before, and the fact that someone found them to be "pretty" horrified him slightly.

"Siri -" She began in an oddly motherly tone as Fenris shut his jaw with an audible snap.

"I want tattoos!" Siri exclaimed. An exasperated Astoria dropped her face in her palm and Fenris nearly choked on his own breath.

"No, you don't," he answered, his voice void of the harsh tone Astoria expected him to use. "And they are _not_ pretty." He added.

"Yes, they are!" Siri protested just as the door behind them swung open again and Caroline came bustling out with a metal key in her hand. She gave it to Astoria and gave a long-suffering sigh as she dropped her hands on her hips.

"I'll let you know when another room opens up," Caroline said with a tired glance at the children. "Feel free to adopt any of these hooligans and take them with you, by the way."

Astoria followed her gaze and Fenris watched the two, wondering how well they knew each other, how well Astoria knew everyone here.

"Where is Pedran?"

Caroline grew visibly upset immediately. "We don't know. He disappeared from the alienage."

"Maker's breath, really?"

"Yes," Caroline answered solemnly with a hard frown. "About a week ago. I can't let them outside anymore, not until we find out what's going on."

Astoria nodded and then turned to Fenris, her brief smile not reaching her eyes as she glanced to the hallway. "Well, thank you for the key. Let's go settle in, Fenris."

Once they found the last room on the left – more of a closet with a twin-sized cot than a room, Fenris was glad to be alone with her again. Being alone with Astoria brought a kind of solitude, a sometimes comfortable silence. It was a place where he could ask questions, show his interest in his past - a trait that he had seen as nothing more than a vulnerability with others.

Astoria began unpacking her things on a small table as Fenris sat down and scratched his chin with his gauntleted fingers. She handed him the last of the food in her satchel – bread and a small amount of cheese with some berries.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were married to an elf?" He asked, his voice low but not accusing for once. It was the most trivial question he had, but he wanted to understand why no one had expected him to be who he was. "Are you ashamed?"

She turned around to face him and leaned back against the small table, her expression unreadable as she curled her fingers softly around the table's edges.

"Well... for one, it doesn't matter _wha_t you are, Fenris. Secondly, the elves here... some wouldn't like that – when elves and humans have children, the children look like humans. Many would say that I'm helping to 'dilute' your race, which is not the case, at least not intentionally. Thirdly, I don't want anyone thinking that I'm only behind them because I'm married to an elf. I'm against slavery with or without you."

Fenris nodded after a moment. "Who's Pedran?"

"A little boy that lived here."

"What do you think happened to him?"

"I'm not sure."

Fenris glanced at the food beside him and tore a piece of the bread off before popping it into his mouth.

"I'm sorry about Siri." Astoria hummed as she turned around again.

"Who?"

"The girl, the little blond one."

"Oh."

"Children have no tact."

Fenris chuckled, and Astoria seemed surprised at the pleasant sound. He really hadn't minded the girl. In fact, he thought she was funny. "At least they don't pretend that they aren't horrified of me."

Astoria laughed now, bending over with her arms crossed over her stomach as she did so. "Siri is certainly not horrified of you. Nice lie, by the way, calling them 'tattoos'."

Fenris stared at the cracks in the wooden floor, one corner of his lip twitching into half a smile. "I couldn't exactly tell her the truth."

"She'd probably cry if you did." Astoria sat down beside him, holding the bread, cheese and berries in her hand. Their shoulders ghosted the other's and she plucked a berry from her palm. "Mm, here, have some more."

Fenris took a berry, his fingertips brushing her outstretched palm briefly. He ate it, and then felt Astoria watching him as he leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs. With one hand he scratched the back of his neck, staring at the opposite wall.

"Thank you, Fenris." She said softly.

"For what?" He asked, confused.

"For doing what you did. Coming with me." Her answer was sincere and hopeful.

Fenris swallowed but didn't look at her.

"You're a good man."

He could have argued, could have told her about the Fog Warriors, about murdering Hadriana in cold blood (though he figured she already knew), but he didn't. Having someone see the good in him was a stark contrast of his normal way of life, and he welcomed the change as much as it rubbed against his own views of himself.

"I did what I had to do." He answered, finding some peace somewhere in the middle.

The afternoon passed by quickly as Astoria showed Fenris around the Base – to the bathing rooms, the kitchen and the room where the children slept, giving him a tour. Eshan had needed Astoria for a meeting, so Fenris saw this as an opportunity to bathe and stretched out lengthwise on the bed once he was finished in an attempt to nap after the long journey behind him.

Astoria came back from the meeting not long after and explained to him how the rebellion worked in Tantervale. Apparently Eshan was in charge of correspondence with the rebellion outside of Tevinter as well as recruiting free men and women and maintaining a flow of supplies from the rest of Thedas to those working on the inside.

It was later that night that they sparred on the rooftop of the orphanage as the sun set over the western reaches of the wide Minanter River. The day began to cool off, the sounds of the alienage coming to life on the city streets below them. Groups of elven men gambled in alleyways while others smoked pipes in circles and talked.

Astoria ducked out of the way of a swing and tried to kick at Fenris. He jumped back with ease and smirked at her. He enjoyed these times, though he couldn't pinpoint why. He could channel himself, flood out the anger that the day brought. He almost needed to spar with her in order to sleep at night, to flush out any remaining emotions that lingered on the edges of his consciousness.

In a flurry of movements, a hard fist connected with his ribcage while he restrained her other arm.

"You are learning," he said gruffly, flinching away slightly from another hit that would have connected but didn't.

A child laughed from down on the street, followed by a mother calling after him.

"I learned from you," Astoria remarked breathlessly as she spun to face him when he released her arm.

Fenris chuckled. A group of men cheered at something from far below. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and beckoned her to come near. Astoria considered her next move, shifting her weight with that feral grin that Fenris was beginning to enjoy.

She came at him and Fenris caught her wrist as she threw a fist at him. Another impossibly fast series of motions happened and Astoria was pinned again, with Fenris straddling her stomach. She tried to laugh but couldn't, the wind temporarily knocked out of her lungs.

Fenris stood as the alienage bustled below them, more alive with nightfall than in the day. He took her hand and helped her up and they went to the edge of the roof, silently agreeing that their session was over.

"The elves here seem... content." He observed as a small group of adolescent elves walked across the street.

"The rebellion acts as an authority here, if you will. If we fight amongst each other, how can we fight the real enemy?"

"I have always hated alienages."

"We won't be here long, I hope."

They stood there for a while, looking over the building's facade at the narrow streets below; elven folk mulling about on their own business. The sky darkened slowly and the streets were lit and lined with flickering lanterns. Music played from somewhere, too far to distinguish.

Later, his mind reeled as he slumped against the wall in the small bedroom they were sharing. Astoria spun a quill in her fingers, chewing her bottom lip in concentration while looking at a sheet of vellum. Supper had been loud and busy. They had eaten with about twenty other elves who all discussed the rebellion, training the new recruits and a supply of near irreparable armor that the city guard had given them. Their names swam in in a chaotic mess his mind, but he found that he couldn't match them to the faces.

They had all been equally surprised and fascinated by Fenris. Astoria made it easy for him by diverting their attention. "Don't worry, we'll answer your questions. But we've had a long journey and we're exhausted." She had said, and it had worked like a charm and no one bothered him for the rest of the meal.

Fenris rubbed his feet from where he sat on the floor. In the three weeks he had been traveling with Astoria, he had gotten used to the dirt, the soft terrain of Wildervale. But city streets were rough and he had grown unaccustomed to the roads and his feet were blistered and painful.

In the hallway outside of the door Fenris could hear Garsen talking with another man, and he groaned inwardly at the thought of sleeping in such a loud place. Danarius' mansion had been so eerily quiet, and traveling with Astoria had brought a good balance, nay, a peace that Fenris wasn't used to. As much as he liked the quiet, he liked her gentle humming and the sounds of her daggers softly tapping against her hips to remind him that he was not alone.

"Is there anything you want me to ask in the letters? There will be a copy going to all of the branches of the rebellion in Tevinter."

"About who may have your son?" Fenris still couldn't bring himself to say "our son." After all, he had never met the child.

"Well, anything."

Fenris steepled his fingers in front of his face and thought. "I'd like to understand my markings. Danarius was one of the few to ever... successfully brand lyrium in someone." He shuddered in disgust. "Apparently many people die during the process. And from what I understand, when a magister dies, other magisters will raid the estate before the authorities can get to it. Mainly they do this to recover research, tomes, valuables, what have you. I'm sure someone has raided Danarius' mansion, they must have his research on my markings."

Astoria smiled reassuringly at him, a promising gleam in her eyes as the candlelight flickered on her face. "Fenris, we will learn everything there is to know about those markings. Don't worry."

His lip curled but he didn't smile. "What will you be asking?"

Astoria tiled her head as she finished writing a sentence. "I am asking if anyone has seen a boy with Lysander's description, or heard of him in a magister's care."

A dark and threatening thought rooted itself in the forefront of Fenris' mind. He remembered Danarius sacrificing a little boy once, a blood ritual really just to prove his power. Fenris couldn't help but wonder if Lysander's kidnapping was only a coincidence – if it was just a random magister who had nothing to do with Danarius, but rather was stealing the boy to use him for a blood ritual.

His eyes darted to her, and for a brief moment he feared that she had come to this same conclusion. Astoria sat on the edge of the bed, the table pulled close as she wrote on the vellum. But she couldn't know, and if she did, it must have been a thought buried in a place she wouldn't visit. Fenris wouldn't tell her, he couldn't break the possibility of this to her. If she hadn't thought of this, how would she react? Surely it would break her heart, and Fenris couldn't find it in himself to do it, to reveal this possibility.

She started talking again and his thoughts turned back to the present and away from such grim topics. "I'm asking what magisters are actively researching lyrium warriors, and for any information anyone may know about them." Astoria sighed in defeat and met his gaze, and another smile spread across her lips. "Why are you on the floor?"

He had been there for some time, so he thought the question was strange. Before he could answer, she chuckled and stood, getting off the bed.

"Sleep on the bed, Fenris."

He smirked and slid down the wall so that he was stretched out further on the floor. "No."

"Maker's breath, you are stubborn."

He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted to get comfortable, ignoring the playful jab.

"Always have been," she said as she leaned over the bed and pulled a blanket off of it. It was the only one that had been on the bed, and Fenris scowled when she dropped it over him.

Astoria smirked and collapsed onto the bed, throwing the pillow at him as well. It missed him and landed beside him, causing him to chuckle. But he accepted it without further argument and settled, laying down completely and dropping his head onto it.

She rolled over and blew out the candle before stretching out on the mattress. Darkness engulfed the windowless room and a deep quiet settled over them.

**I know nothing too much happens here, thank you for bearing with me. I've thought of just scrapping the thing and adding in the info in later chapters, but I wanted to include Fenris meeting Siri because I think it's cute. =)**


	15. Promise

**A/N - Thanks for bearing with the last chapter, I figured I'd put this one up now. Thank you for everyone who's been reading! =)**

This was all wrong. Fenris' shoulders were taut and tensed as he surveyed the scene before him. They were all on the roof of the orphanage at midday. Astoria and Garsen were training about a dozen recruits in dual-handed weapons, teaching them how to fight. They were hopeless – men and women either just out of slavery or on their way to it with no fighting experience. This was very wrong, he thought- training elves for battle when they could all be seen by much of the other larger buildings in the city. It was too open, too dangerous. They would get caught eventually, he was sure.

Beside him, Siri fidgeted on the bench like any five year old would, her blond curls bouncing against her shoulders as she clapped her hands and sang about birds in that little girl, sing-song voice that _almost_ irritated him. Fenris scowled, his head beginning to throb as the unforgiving sun beat down on them.

"Little birdie, blue birdie, fa la la," Siri sang out from beside Fenris. He guessed that she conjured up her lyrics as she went – nothing rhymed, and most of it made no sense.

The girl had followed him almost everywhere. When he had gone to breakfast with Astoria, the girl had come to sit next to him and she told him all about games she liked to play and how she wanted a mabari. She was like a parasite trailing along behind him wherever he went.

"Siri, how many times do I have to tell you, leave the poor man alone!" Caroline had shouted, exasperated and exhausted beyond belief as Siri tried to inspect her reflection in his plated gauntlets. The little girl had startled and nearly cried.

"It's alright," he had said as Astoria laughed from across the table.

"You will regret that." She said before biting into a piece of bread.

And he had. He regretted it almost immediately when he went with Astoria to meet some of the new recruits. Apparently telling Caroline that "It's alright," meant that he didn't mind if Siri followed him around all day.

And that she had.

"La la la fa la la," Siri sang out, her voice so peculiar on the roof where Astoria and Garsen were teaching the recruits about fighting stances. "Birdie, birdie get out of the rain!" Siri's voice climbed to a high pitch that made Fenris wince.

His head was killing him.

Siri bumped into him as she danced on the bench where she sat. Disgruntled, he pushed down the bench to the very edge.

He tried to ignore the high pitched blabbering beside him by watching Astoria as she sparred with Garsen. Their daggers hit each other and rang out like bells, and both moved lithely, like cats. Astoria seemed uncomfortable, her mouth set in a small frown as she dodged jabs from Garsen, the young elven man with the mohawk.

_Poke._

Fenris glared at Siri. She shied away, giggling and not the least intimidated by his stare.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice finally showing how short his patience was.

Siri shrugged, her tiny shoulders moving with an exaggerated heave. Fenris rolled his eyes and looked back at Astoria. Everyone on the roof, except for the little girl, was watching her. The dozen elves seemed fascinated with their abilities. But Fenris knew that Astoria was outperforming the man. She tripped him easily and stood, her eyes flashing to Fenris in victory.

When she smiled, Fenris went still, ignoring another poke from the little girl beside him. Astoria jogged over towards the two.

"Siri," she said softly, coming to a halt in front of them. Garsen was back on his feet and discussing the techniques that they had used with the recruits. "Be nice to Fenris."

"I am!" She protested, eyes wide. "I like him!"

Astoria chuckled and she flashed an apologetic smile towards Fenris as he scowled. "Stop bugging him, dear. Fenris, if you want me to get Caroline, just say the word."

He glanced at the little elven girl beside him. She was wiggling about on the bench, swinging her knobby-kneed legs over the bench. He couldn't exactly be mad at a five year-old girl, but he didn't know how to act around children. Fenris sighed and shook his head.

"She's fine." He muttered just before Siri squealed in excitement, glad that she could stick around with her favorite person.

Astoria laughed and raked her fingers through the little girl's hair, ruffling up her locks. "Alright, alright. Fenris... would you like to spar with me, in front of them? Show them how a_ real_ warrior fights?"

He didn't tell her that fighting with long daggers doesn't make you a "warrior" because the compliment had thrown him off-guard. He managed a quick nod and gathered up his sword, relieved to step away from the hyperactive child.

It only took a moment for Fenris to discover that he did _not_ like sparring with an audience. He kept throwing glances at them, aware that he was distracted – and being distracted leaves openings in defense that should not be there. Even still, he could tell by the gasping audience that they were impressive – a force of nature.

Astoria spun as if in a dance, no longer appearing uncomfortable. In fact, that feral grin spread across her face as she jumped away from his arcing sword as it swung between them. They were fluid and mightily quick; the world around them spinning as they whirled around the other. Fenris was fast, but not in the way she was. He wielded brute strength and his movements were more controlled and taut. Astoria had successfully adapted to his fighting style – and she was like a striking cobra. She was light on her feet, her hair splaying as she resembled a cyclone, ducking and jumping and jabbing.

Someone whooped from the audience and Fenris made the mistake of glancing in that direction. In a split second he had Astoria pressed against him, the dull edge of her dagger's blade ghosting his throat. She panted with a feral and victorious grin, clearly proud of herself as the audience hollered at the great show they had put on. As he met her gaze, something happened.

_The deafening clamor of the crowd thrummed in his stung his eyes and the sun was burning his skin. The small arena was flat and the ground was stained with blood and gore. Rows of people, guards and magisters clapped and cheered and shouted from the stands. At the center, in the front row to his left sat the familiar magister under a shade. Danarius was touching his beard, staring at him, interest clear in his eyes._

_ A movement out of the corner of his eye startled him. A man was approaching, wearing nothing but steel boots, a cloth around his waist, a helm and pauldron. The man rolled his broad shoulders, wielding a short sword in one hand and a round wooden shield in the other._

_ I can cut through that, he thought._

_ The volume in the coliseum seemed to double as the two took cautious steps towards each other._

Fenris gasped at the memory, trying to drag it back to his consciousness as it slipped like a sinking ship into the depths. _Oh no_, he thought immediately, _this isn't happening again_.

"Venhedis!" He hissed to himself as the images of the memory pulsed dully and faded into his mind's eye.

"What? What is it?" Astoria asked, sheathing her daggers and stepping back as if their proximity was causing his outburst. "What's wrong, Fenris?"

He remembered her suggestion from the Vimmark Mountains – to tell her what he had seen immediately.

"An arena, and... Danarius," was all he could say as the memory fell away beyond reach. "I remembered."

Astoria's eyes went wide. "You remembered an arena, and Danarius?"

He felt all eyes on him and suddenly he was extremely uncomfortable. "Yes," he muttered in a low voice, barely audible.

Astoria nodded and sensing his discomfort, looked to the recruits and Garsen. "We are going to take a break, keep practicing. Garsen, keep an eye on Siri."

Siri complained shrilly from the bench, but Astoria squeezed Fenris' arm and led him to the door that connected the inside of the orphanage to the roof. They stepped into the narrow staircase and shut the door behind them.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her voice breathless and cracking. She was nervous, her eyes wide and slightly horrified.

Fenris stood in the narrow passage, fuming. Why did the memories drag away like that? How could he keep them there? He had so many questions, and when this happened he felt mocked and taunted and cruelly teased. All he wanted was to know his past, to see it in his own mind, clear as day.

"I remembered an arena," he gritted out through his teeth, frustration digging at him in all the corners of his being. "I remembered Danarius."

"Do you remember them now?"

"No, the actual memory is gone." He scowled, trying to maintain his composure. "But I know what I told you."

Astoria nodded in understanding, her fingertips dancing along her jaw as she thought. "That must have been the competition."

His jade eyes flickered to her, a plea in them for answers. He was desperate for them. "Do you think?"

"This is a good sign," Astoria breathed finally. "I think Danarius' magic is deteriorating."

"Tell me about the competition." He turned and braced himself against the wall.

"I... I don't know about the competition, Fenris. We weren't allowed to go, none of the families of the competitors were. When you got back from it," she hesitated as if measuring his reaction. He shut his eyes and listened, waited. She continued sadly. "You said that Danarius would be coming for you by the time night fell. You were injured, but you won the competition."

Fenris felt himself boiling over. His hands would be shaking if they weren't flat against the wall. "Tell me more."

"You- you didn't want to talk about the competition. Not when you got back from it." She took a cautious step towards him. "You said that it was awful, like animals being thrown into a pen and left to fend for themselves. But you didn't want to talk about it – you said that you wanted to enjoy your last hours with us."

He made a pained sound in his throat and pushed off the wall. He raked a hand through his hair and frowned at Astoria. "Did I?"

Pain flashed on her features, and it was clear that she didn't want to answer him. She clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head. "No. None of us did."

He looked at her for a while and noticed that she was clearly uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. "It isn't fair. I hate this." He said finally. "My memories coming and going like the tide." _The things I want the most but cannot have_, he wanted to add.

"I know, I know," she replied softly, her voice edged with an effort to be comforting. "We will find a way to get them back. I swear it."

"You cannot promise that," he seethed with a harsh glare. The hallway was too narrow, too cramped, he had to get somewhere, had to punch something or throw something.

"_If_ there is a way to get your memories back, we will," she amended. "I promise."


	16. A Lead

**A/N - Thank you to Kira Tamarion, Wicked Lullaby and Billini for your wonderful reviews, and thank you to everyone who has been reading. =) I hope you guys like where this is going, let me know what you think!**

Intelligence from the field began to trickle in after that first week in Tantervale. Scouts and other rebels from the resistance were intercepting slavers on the road, gathering support from elven civilians – mainly ones on the fringes of society. Information on the upcoming gathering of magisters poured in. It was a meeting regarding Seheron that would be held at the end of the summer, and it would be held in Minrathous.

This gave them little time to prepare, since Minrathous was such a far journey from Tantervale. Astoria and Fenris worked diligently with Garsen to train the new recruits. They went to sleep at night exhausted, growing more anxious that they would not have any answers by the the time the rebellion mobilized.

It felt like something big was just around the bend. It reminded Astoria of the electricity in the humid air before a heavy and cleansing storm.

And then a letter from the Minrathous rebellion branch came. The first raindrops of the storm had begun to fall.

"Here," Eshan pushed the vellum to where Astoria and Fenris stood in the war room. They were half-way through May now, and things were frantic around the orphanage. Elves rushed by in the hallway, gearing up in their repaired armor to train for the day. Fenris shifted behind her, craning his neck to read along as Astoria unfolded the vellum.

_Eshan,_

_ There is a woman claiming to know the location of this boy you speak of. She works for a magister, however, though to what extent I am unsure. She would not tell me more, only that she wishes to send a letter to the mother's location, and would like me to give it to her. I do not know who this "Astoria" is, but tell me what you think I should do._

_ Hollan_

Astoria turned to Fenris, her eyes wide in horror as all the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. "This..." She gripped his arm for support and her other hand shook with the vellum. "It's... Varania. It has to be."

Fenris scowled at the sound of her name and ripped the abrupt letter from her hand, reading it over again to be sure. The letter hadn't mentioned the woman's name, but she had mentioned Astoria by name. It had to be Varania.

Eshan passed confused looks between them both, clearly not understanding the gravity of this situation. "What do you want me to say to Hollan?"

Fenris looked down at Astoria, who seemed almost blank for a few startling seconds. Then there was a slight shift and she seemed horrified, like she was trapped in a terrible nightmare as she gripped Fenris for balance. Her lip was curled in a frown, her eyes wide and her free hand still trembling.

"I'm going to Minrathous," she told Eshan in a low, level voice. "I will meet you wherever you are-"

"No, Astoria," Eshan interjected, shooting Fenris a pleading glance for help, "we need you both, to help train, to get us ready. You will have better luck with an army than you will with only the two of you."

Astoria looked furious with her jaw clenched and hard gaze at Eshan. "You expect me to sit by and wait? This is my son, Eshan. I told you from the beginning that my family takes precedence over everything for me." Her voice was icy. Fenris had never seen her like this, and he could understand. He wanted to leave as well. Their time in Tantervale could be over. This was the lead they needed.

But it was a terrible, vague and cruel lead.

Varania was screwing them over again. He knew it. He swore under his breath. Why hadn't he killed her? He should have. This would only be another trap. He wondered what she was being offered this time that she would so willingly do this to him again.

Eshan put his hands out in a non-threatening gesture. "No, but this is bigger than that, Astoria. You have to help us – _we_ will get your son back."

"I'm not indebted to you," she seethed, snatching the vellum from Fenris and turning to storm out of the room. Fenris glanced at Eshan, who was scrambling, running around the side of the table.

It took him a split second to realize that Eshan was chasing her.

"Garsen!" Eshan shouted as Astoria disappeared into her room in a flurry of terror and rage. Garsen stepped into the hallway where the other two men stood, looking perplexed.

"Don't let Astoria leave," Eshan commanded before he turned to Fenris, "she needs to calm down and -"

Fenris scowled at Eshan. "It's her choice to leave."

"No!" Eshan roared, his face reddening, "This is bigger than your son!"

Astoria flew from her bedroom with her daggers drawn, her bow and quiver and all of her bags across her back. "Out of my way," she hissed to the three of them. Garsen stepped to her threateningly. He would try to stop her, keep her in the hallway, even though she was armed.

Fenris watched the scene with scrutiny, hoping that Garsen would not also draw his daggers. No one needed to die because Astoria wanted to leave. Then Garsen stepped aside to let her pass but his jaw was set stubbornly, and an uncomfortable feeling wormed in Fenris' gut. Astoria passed him a suspicious glance, and as she was stepping by him, he slammed her into the wall and then there was a struggle and the hallway burst into chaos.

Garsen growled and worked to bring Astoria to the ground and disarm her. She was still holding her daggers as she elbowed Garsen in the stomach and the breath whooshed out of him. Garsen slammed his arms down around Astoria, pinning her own arms to her side as she hissed obscenities at him.

It had only been a handful of seconds at the most, but Astoria let her daggers fall to the floor, one blade lodging in the wood and the other barely missing her foot. Fenris saw the opportunity and leapt forward, his lyrium pulsing painfully bright as he pushed Garsen away and angled himself between the exit and Astoria. Behind him, Eshan gasped at Fenris' markings.

Astoria was on her feet in a flash, eyeing Fenris levelly with her breath short and chest heaving with rage and exertion.

"Astoria," he said cooly, blocking her path, his lyrium dimming.

"Are you coming with me or staying?" She asked after sucking in a harsh breath.

"I'm coming with you," He said with his palms outstretched to her, "but we don't need to be reckless. You and I are not storming into Minrathous by ourselves."

Something inside Astoria seemed to crack as she surrendered, outnumbered. Her eyes welled up in tears in the terrible and pregnant silence in the hallway. Fenris waited, unsure of what would happen, his own heart pounding in his chest as the last two minutes sank in.

They had their lead.

They _had their lead_.

This meant no more waiting in Tantervale. This meant they could move on, find Lysander... and then what?

"Varania..." Astoria whispered with her voice trembling, "I swear if she... if she has been _hiding_ this-"

Fenris frowned, knowing where this was headed. "I will take care of her."

Behind him, Eshan watched them with analytical attention, and Garsen brought himself to his feet, grumbling and ashamed that he had been pushed around so easily.

"Let's sit down." Fenris coaxed.

She looked at him, anguish in her features, and it was clear she still wanted to go past him. "Let me by." Her voice was dry, pained.

He didn't answer and he didn't move.

"I can't fight you." She revealed, defeat ringing in her voice.

He knew he wouldn't fight her, if it came to that, if she tried pushing past him. He'd have to run after her and follow, or leave and head back to Kirkwall.

Astoria gathered up her daggers and went back to her room, Fenris on her heels. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, giving her space to cool off..

"Varania knows where he is," she said, teetering on the edge of tears. "She knows where he is and she didn't... she didn't tell me, didn't send me a letter." She looked up at Fenris, her face contorted in unspeakable anguish as she realized the betrayal.

Fenris frowned, but anger boiled inside him. "What do you expect from a mage?" He muttered.

Astoria shook her head in disagreement. "No, Fenris, you don't understand. You weren't there – she _loved_ Lysander."

He ducked his head, painfully aware of his prejudiced assumptions and how they came across.

"There's something wrong with this." Astoria collapsed onto her bed, her knees seeming to buckle as if her grief had weight to it. Fenris let his gauntleted fingertips scrape the wood at the door, digging into the old material.

"It's a trap," he said, "That's the only explanation."

"But it... a trap for what? For you?"

"Perhaps."

It was a long minute before she shrugged. "I think there is only a handful of you in all of Tevinter. Lyrium warriors. And Varania doesn't know that I've gone for you."

He nodded. "This is why we must be careful."

"You would think that the magisters would give up at this point. You've evaded them for so long."

He sighed and moved to sit beside her on the bed, their shoulders ghosting each other's. The scent of her lavender hair wafted into his senses and he breathed slowly. "They will _never_ give up."

Astoria reached out and squeezed his thigh reassuringly. "They will, Fenris. We'll make them." She let her hand linger on his leg for a moment before moving it slowly back towards her.

Fenris caught it before she had taken it back, appalled that at this moment in time she was trying to comfort him. It _should_ be the other way around. But he was not the comforting type, could not offer her his shoulder to cry on or tell her that it would be all right because he knew that it wouldn't. Instead, he intertwined their fingers and held their hands between each other like they had the night it rained in the mountains.

Since that night on the lake in Wildervale, Fenris knew that his escape had cost Lysander's freedom. He felt inexplicably guilty, though it hadn't been intentional and no one faulted him for it. There was a child being held captive because someone, somewhere wanted his markings. He shuddered at the thought.

It was disgusting that someone would use his child as bait, just to trap him.

He turned his gaze to Astoria. She hadn't asked for this. She had suffered because of him, and yet she did not blame him or hold him accountable. She did not demand anything from him. This was the kindest thing she could ever do for him – not demand anything of him, not blame him, let him come out of this at his own pace.

"I would have looked for you," he said suddenly.

She looked at him with a furrowed brow, utterly confused.

Fenris swallowed hard. "My birthday. You asked what I would have done if Varania told me about you. I would have looked for you."

Her big blue eyes widened and a choked sob racked her seemingly fragile body. She looked relieved beyond words as her shoulders heaved and she curled in on herself. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I am not the only one with people on my side."


	17. Heavy Storm

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading and Wicked Lullaby for the review on the last chapter. This is a quick one, the next one will be like the second half to this, but it will be from Astoria's POV, and I wanted to keep them separate.**

**Everyone got an extra e-mail because one of my chapters got deleted somehow, so I had to re-post it, but it's fixed.**

**Also, Bioware owns everything that you recognize.**

Fenris sat on the bed in his rented room at the Base, a candle flickering beside him as he unfolded the familiar drawings. He had been vigilant these past few days, fearing that Astoria would run off to go to Minrathous by herself in pursuit of Varania and Lysander. Since she had read the letter from Hollan, she was more withdrawn and distraught. It was clear that Varania's betrayal was weighing heavily on her mind.

Fenris stared at the drawing in his hands. He had looked at this one hundreds of times, he was sure. Every time he looked at it it disturbed him, but he still couldn't look away. It was easily the most hastily drawn of them all, as if Varania hadn't wanted to be caught drawing it.

In the drawing, Fenris was comforting Astoria as she cried in his arms, her back bloodied and her shirt soaked. It was so difficult to imagine this woman, so vulnerable and hurt, to be the same woman in the other room – strong, determined, kind beyond words.

He got off the bed and went to the door, carrying the drawing with him. He wanted to ask her what had happened in the drawing, why Astoria had been punished. He also wanted to make sure that she was still around and hadn't fled.

He knocked on her door and there was no answer.

He padded around throughout the Base, listening for her as he made his way to the dining room. Garsen was talking with another man at the table, sipping an ale and shaking his head disapprovingly at something the other man had said. Upon Fenris' entrance, he looked up and gave Fenris a curt nod.

The two weren't friendly with each other, and that didn't exactly bother Fenris. He wasn't friendly with most people.

"Have you seen Astoria?" He asked, stopping several feet away from them. The man across from Garsen smirked.

"She's with the kids," Garsen replied, sounding uninterested. "Something you need?"

"No." Fenris turned and went down a dark and separate hallway towards where the children slept. He had only been there once, when Astoria showed him around the building. Siri had asked him to tuck her into bed a few times, but Caroline always came to his rescue and bid the girl to leave him alone.

He felt bad for disregarding Siri the way he did because he did actually like her, but he didn't want her to get attached to him or see him as some sort of paternal figure. He knew that he'd be leaving soon anyway and Siri would have to get over it. Still, some days he didn't mind when she followed him around and he even taught her how to do a fighting stance and a couple attacks. She was a little spitfire, and would probably grow to be a good fighter anyway, like Aveline but with more sass.

Fenris walked silently down the silent and dark tunnel that passed as a hallway, pausing as a soft voice carried itself from the dark room where the children slept.

At first he assumed someone was speaking to him. Astoria, likely. Caroline's voice was too hoarse from yelling at children all day to compare with the soft, velvet one he heard now. And the new female recruits wouldn't be spending any time with the children.

He squinted in the dark, but continued, realizing the voice was too quiet to actually be speaking to him. He reached the doorway and saw the bunked beds on each side of the wide room; more beds than actual children. With a frown he realized one of them had belonged to the missing child, Pedran. Light drew his attention away from that thought, a candle sat on top of a small table next to the first bed.

Fenris leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and looked at Astoria. She was sitting in the candlelight on the bed, running gentle fingers through Siri's blond curls as the little girl drifted into a peaceful sleep that only naïve children can manage. Astoria sang softly from where she sat, a beautiful and haunting song and it made Fenris' heart feel heavy as he listened to the words.

She looked so... natural, so motherly as she sat on the bed with the girl and raked her fingers through Siri's hair. The room was silent except for Astoria's singing, which sounded alarmingly familiar and the lyrics hit close to home. She sang about a brother leaving, and a woman, the moon and the sea, and wanting time to reverse itself back to better days.

Fenris couldn't help but make the connections, the parallels between Astoria's past and the lyrics. As she finished the song she leaned down and kissed the girl's forehead before smiling at her. Her smile was so pleasant, so calm and unguarded.

Fenris decided that if this was the woman that had raised his child, he was alright with that. She certainly must have done a better job at motherhood than he ever would have with fatherhood. What appeared to come so naturally to her in turn scared him almost as much as slavery.

Again he thought of what would happen once this was all over. What if the best happened, and they got Lysander back into Astoria's care? What would happen? He was sure he couldn't be a father – it was such a heavy demand, such a ball and chain, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand it, to accept it.

But then Astoria stood up and blew out the candle and then turned towards the doorway, and a small squeak escaped her.

"Maker's breath," she whispered in the dark, "Fenris, is that you?"

"Yes." Fenris pushed off the doorframe and took a few steps away and back into the hallway to let her walk by.

He heard her footsteps in the dark approaching him. Then suddenly he could smell her lavender-scented hair and could feel her warm breath.

"You scared me," she accused with a tiny chuckle. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Since you started that song," he admitted as they both began walking down the dark corridor towards the dining room.

"Oh."

"It was nice."

"Thank you."

"It sounds familiar," he added, fishing for information about the lyrics.

She made a noise beside him, but he couldn't tell what it was. "You have not heard it before, I promise."

He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see. "Did you make that song?"

She sighed in the dark. "Er, yes, partly. Let's go to the roof, I'll explain. I need some fresh air, I think."

They passed by Garsen and the other man in the dining room before heading up the main hallway and up the narrow staircase to the roof. The night was dark and the stars twinkled brightly, the moon a sickle shape making its long arch over the sky. The night brought with it an uncommon chill over Tantervale.

Fenris and Astoria went to their common spot – the ledge that looked over what was used as a small marketplace during the day. Lanterns hung to illuminate the dirt streets below, a handful of elves standing around and talking while drinking and smoking pipes of a sweet smelling tobacco. The distant music played as was usual from a filthy tavern several streets over.

"What were you doing down there anyway?" Astoria asked, climbing over to straddle the ledge. This made Fenris nervous, but he didn't show it.

"I was seeing if you had run away yet."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "No, not yet. I just... it's so hard to stay here when..."

"I know." Fenris finished for her, curling his fingers around the ledge as he looked over at the streets. "It's the right choice. What good are you to the boy if you die?"

Astoria nodded in agreement and Fenris noticed a bandage wrapped around her upper arm. "What happened?"

"I was sparring with a new recruit today. He lost his grip on the dagger and got me."

"We shouldn't be working directly with such unskilled fighters."

Astoria shrugged. "No one else can train them."

They were quiet for a few moments and a burst of laughter erupted from the elves in the street.

"That song... you said you made it?" Fenris began again, glancing sidelong at her to gauge her reaction. Her brow furrowed for a brief moment as she looked out onto the bright city stretched out far in every direction.

"Varania and I both did. She would sing the first part, about the brother, you, and I would sing the last part about your mother."

They met each other's gaze and Fenris frowned. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear all of this, but he gave her a slight nod. It was his motion to tell her to continue, an unspoken arrangement that he was glad they had.

"And there's a part about Varania's art, and a part about you and I. Your mother... do you remember in her letter to you, she said that you and Varania were like the moon and the sun?"

Fenris nodded, his throat tight and his shoulders heavy. He read that letter every night. He knew it by heart now.

"Well, in the song I mention 'the moon and the sea.' You were the moon, of course. Varania was the sun. And I came in later, and because of the color of my eyes, your mother called me the 'sea.' She was a poetic woman like that. And the moon and the tides work together." Her voice wavered and Fenris realized that this was why he hadn't actually heard her sing yet – because the song was about his family. It was personal in a way that would have made him uncomfortable if she had sang it in his presence.

"We sang that song, those lyrics specifically, because we were wishing for happier times. I know what it sounds like to you... that you would make the ultimate sacrifice and we still complain about our lives. I know you had it awful, Fenris, and there is _nothing_ I wouldn't do to make it so you didn't have to go through that," she said, and Fenris felt his breath catch at hearing it.

"But you had troubles as well," he finished for her and she nodded slowly. He thought again of all that she had gone through – taking care of his delirious and grief-stricken mother along with raising a child by herself. He thought of Astoria, pregnant, having to provide for essentially four people, having everything taken from her.

Part of him, a dying part of him, wanted to argue that nothing could be equated with what he had gone through. But he couldn't argue that anymore, he couldn't bring himself to feel so bitter towards her for being "free" because he had made the ultimate sacrifice.

"What happened here?" He asked, handing her the vellum in his hands because the topic at hand was too heavy for him to face at the moment.

Astoria eyed the vellum curiously before unfolding it. She tilted it to get a better view of it, letting the dim light from the streets below light it. Her face fell as soon as it registered in her mind and she handed it back to Fenris quickly, as if it offended her.

"That..." Astoria sounded pained, but she continued, "that was when they caught us fighting – well, training, I guess. We weren't very skilled back then."

Fenris frowned, glancing down at the drawing. "Was I not punished?"

Astoria shook her head. "The competition was coming up, and Mavion didn't want you to go into it injured. There was a lot of coin going his way if you won." Something about her expression told him that that was not all, but he didn't press her. Magisters didn't just _not_ deal out their punishments.

It disgusted him beyond belief that that had happened, another shard of guilt wedging itself inside his mind. Then something unpleasant worried him.

"You were not pregnant here, were you?" He pointed to the drawing.

Astoria let a bit of a chuckle escape her, but it was not in good humor, it was more nervous than anything. "No, I don't believe so."

Fenris nodded, though he wanted more information than that. The topic was touchy, however, and too personal for his comfort. He had known her for almost two months now, and still couldn't bring himself to allow a certain level of acceptance with her. He couldn't ask her about things like this because in doing so he would admit to himself that he had a lifetime obligation ahead of him to be a father. And that was something he did not want just yet.

If he cared about Lysander and Astoria, it would chain him down. For his own survival, he knew he should run away and never look back, but that wasn't an option at this point. He had made his choice.

Fenris frowned as he glanced sidelong at Astoria to see her peering over the edge of the roof.

"I am sorry I was not there to help you." He admitted, feeling no better at the unveiling of his guilt. Instead, he felt vulnerable in a way that made him nauseous.

Astoria smiled, but it was a smile that masked heavy grief. "And I am sorry for what you've been through."

**_So if you would like to hear the song that Astoria sings, you can find it here at... w w w . you tube .com/watch?v=S6xMFr85p2U ... just get rid of the spaces. I imagined it being a duet with Varania and Astoria - Varania singing the first verse and Astoria singing the rest. I've never written a songfic, and I don't want to force anyone to listen to music they don't want to hear, so there's your option. The lyrics are quiet beautiful and relevant, so listen to the lyrics if you do go to the link. =) _**


	18. Fenris' Birthday

**A/N - Thank you Billini and Wicked Lullaby for the reviews - I appreciate them all so much! Enjoy and let me know what you think! =)**

As much as Fenris had not expected to, he fell into somewhat of a routine at the Base. They had weeks to pass before expecting any replies from the rest of the rebellion's branches. Where they would go afterwards, they did not know. For now, however, they would stay in Tantervale and wait until they learned about Lysander or at the very least, who has information on Fenris' markings.

Within a week, Fenris had begun to help Astoria in her efforts to train the recruits, with mixed results. The elves were intimidated by him, but after a few days they didn't seem so frightened in his presence. Many of them were not built to be swordsmen, however, and Fenris wondered if they would run and cower in the face of danger.

Siri still pestered him every time he ate and would often try to follow him, but Caroline kept the girl with the rest of the children, which he was thankful for. He didn't particularly mind the little girl being around, as bothersome as her high-pitched screeching could be when she was too excited. She was a little spitfire, and he found her amusing.

It had been a week since he had arrived in Tantervale with Astoria, and he had just gotten his own room the night before, finally. He enjoyed the privacy since he had not been able to sleep in his own room in over a month. Having his own room brought other problems, however – such as losing track of Astoria – his lifeline, essentially.

She had been gone all day, and no one had seen her. Eshan had just shrugged at Fenris and gone back to work, telling him not to worry about her, she'd be fine. Garsen hadn't been much of a help either – he suggested that Fenris look around the alienage for her.

So he had. He had gotten lost for a while, actually, and when he finally got back to the orphanage in the late afternoon, he was irritated and worried.

What would he do if she disappeared? It wasn't a thought that had crossed his mind until then, and how much it bothered him was disturbing. He would lose his only tie to his previous life, the only person who could answer the questions he had.

And then there she was, standing in front of his door in the hallway, knocking. He had just come in from walking around the entire damn alienage and his feet were dirty and he was sweaty and aggravated. He made no attempt to hide his scowl.

She noticed him when he was already close, and her eyes lit up joyously. "Oh, there you are, Fenris!"

He froze. She was wearing a dress.

_Why was she wearing a dress?_

A peasant's dress, but no less a dress.

"I was looking for you," He noted, his tone icier than he had wanted to sound. He had felt betrayed, abandoned and the realization of this was irritating at the very least.

Astoria was grinning practically from ear to ear, like she was keeping a secret. "Come here."

Fenris didn't move, eyeing her suspiciously. Astoria sighed and turned around, going to the staircase that led to the roof. She began up the stairs and Fenris slowly went after her, his mind racing. Her unusual attire swished at her feet, the material revealing her bare ankles as she ascended the stairs in front of him.

At the door to the roof, Astoria glanced back at him with a smile and took a deep breath.

And then she opened the door before Fenris could say anything. They stepped outside and the roof was empty of everything except a small table and two chairs. Two bottles of wine stood tall on the table with a couple plates of food made.

Fenris swallowed audibly, that dreaded sense of being trapped forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Happy birthday," Astoria breathed, her smile enormous and infectious and genuine.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, but he did not smile. At first, he looked slightly frightened as he felt a heat rushing to his ears. No one had ever cooked specifically for him like this. It embarrassed him, but it was endearing. He couldn't any find words to respond, feeling unworthy.

A hand curled around his arm softly as Astoria whispered, "It's alright, Fenris."

He shuddered briefly from the touch, his mouth gaping only slightly. This was kind beyond words, beyond thanks and repayment. His chest felt tight and heavy with the compassion that was behind this.

Laughter could be heard from the streets below and a distant music drifted up the alleys. The sun was getting ready to set, and something inside him sent a flare of panic into his mind. This was _romantic._ He was not ready to be romantic with her or anyone, was he? He didn't know _how_ to be romantic.

As if sensing his inner conflict, she removed her hand form his arm and spoke softly. "It's just dinner. Just a thank-you."

He let his gaze turn to her, though he worried he'd choke if he did so. "I... I didn't know it was today," he managed, his low voice sounding tight and stretched.

"It is."

He suddenly felt foolish for being so irritated with her. "This is too much," he told her seriously.

Astoria shook her head in disagreement. "It isn't. Come, come sit." She smiled and waited for him to take a few steps forward, as if fearing he'd turn around and run away. "It's just dinner," she reminded him. "Food."

He sat down apprehensively and looked at the meal. Bread with butter, roasted chicken and vegetables on a platter before him all looked appetizing, especially compared to the poor excuse for food he had had since arriving in Tantervale. But something smelt like apples. There was a food item in a shallow but wide and round dish, a pastry of sorts – with a dough stretched across the top with holes poked in it.

"What is that?" He asked, eyeing it curiously as he leaned towards it. Astoria chuckled.

"You haven't had it since you can remember?" A smile spread slowly across her face deviously as she came to a realization that was beyond Fenris' understanding. "It's your favorite dessert, that's what it is." He quirked an eyebrow at her and she gestured vaguely, "It's a Ferelden apple pie. My mother used to make them."

He was sure he had never had it before. It looked so foreign, and quite frankly it did not look that appetizing.

"May I try it first?"

She laughed and pushed a bottle of wine towards him. "Let me cut it. Drink some."

He recognized the label immediately and it made his breath hitch. "Aggregio?"

She hummed an affirmative response and suddenly he wanted to shrink away, melt into his seat. He had never been shown this much kindness. He liked to remain in the shadows, ignored because that's how he survived. How would he repay her for this? How did she afford this?

He sniffed the bottle's contents and closed his eyes with a nostalgic smile, remembering its sweet scent. Then he took a greedy swig and placed the bottle back down on the table as Astoria pushed the slice of the pie onto his plate. Its contents were gooey, with apple slices spilling out of its sides.

Astoria watched him carefully as he took a bite of it.

Needless to say, he was _enthusiastic _over the apple pie. A smile spread across his lips. A genuine, real smile, for the first time since Astoria had showed up at Danarius' mansion. Not a smirk, not a curling of the lip, a real smile.

"This is rather... fantastic." He complimented, taking another bite and savoring the taste in his mouth. Astoria laughed and nodded, thoroughly pleased with herself.

"You should have seen yourself when you _first_ tried it. I thought you were going to cry," she teased with a smile that he felt awkward seeing, as if it were too personal to be shared with him.

He tried not to imagining this undignified scene of him crying over food.

"Thank you," he said, feeling undeserving and sheepish. It wasn't sufficient, but it was the most he could say as the alienage fell blindly into the evening.

The sun dipped behind the western buildings when most of the pie was gone, only a small portion of the dinner food had been touched. Fenris drummed his fingers on the table while holding his bottle of Aggregio by the neck.

"I used to pour this for Danarius' guests. He thought my markings intimidated them."

Across the table, a flash of concern showed on Astoria's face. "I'm sorry," she admitted, "Varric told me it was your favorite."

"It is," he replied quickly. He didn't want to offend her as she had shown him this kindness. "Do not apologize. I am not dwelling."

"'Brooding,' I believe is what Varric calls it." She smiled.

He smirked at her in response. "That." The last of the wine swirled around in the bottle and Fenris realized he had drank nearly the entire thing in about an hour. Aggregio was meant to be enjoyed, not chugged.

Astoria pushed a last unfinished piece of pie around on her plate and said softly, "I had worried what kind of person I would find in Kirkwall, when I went for you. I'm glad that there are parts of you that still resemble what I remember."

He sucked in a breath. He had some idea of what he used to be like, before he entered that competition. It was clear in the drawings and the letter – he was mischievous, fun, adoring, loving and loyal. Fenris assumed he was a better person back then. Astoria saying that she saw glimpses of his old self... it was a thought. Fenris decided that he would come back to that later, see what she meant. For now, it was unexpected. Asking her what she meant would probably lead her to complimenting him, and compliments made him slightly nervous.

"Why did you even bother to find me?" He wondered, and it took a second longer to realize he had actually spoken the words and not just thought them.

Astoria had drank an equal amount of wine from a much less expensive brand. She swayed in her seat at the question, like it bowled her over. With honesty evident in her eyes she met his penetrating gaze.

"I'm not sure. I _was_ just going to let you be." She sighed. "But then I thought long and hard about it. I assume you met with Varania in the first place to get answers, and she obviously hadn't given you any. I thought we could help each other, I suppose. And besides, you deserve to know about your son. It's not fair to keep that a secret."

At times he wished that she _had_ just left him alone, let his longing for answers eat at him in private. He had thought learning about his past would bring him a sense of belonging, and before it hadn't. Varania had been terrible to him. But now he did feel like he belonged, if only vaguely and temporarily. He belonged somewhere – he had a duty to get Lysander back even if he had never even met the child.

"I suppose I am glad that you found me," he admitted finally. Actually saying it confirmed it, sealed the deal. Astoria swallowed from across the table and her eyes teared up but she didn't let them fall.

"Sharna would be so proud of you."

He dropped his head, and the blue dark of the night seemed to have washed over Tantervale before he had even noticed. The alienage was alive below them, the streets busy with the city's elves. But on the rooftop everything seemed so distant and unimportant.

"I should thank you, for taking care of her." _And for raising Lysander, and for not forcing this on me, and for not betraying me like Varania had, and for being patient with my mood swings,_ he could have added, but decided not to.

Astoria said nothing at first, her mouth in a slight frown. "It was an honor."

Fenris finished his wine and looked out at the city sprawled out tall around them. He wondered what it would have been like if his mother was still alive. What would she have done? Would she have come with Astoria to find them, or would she be with Varania?

"Where is she buried?" He asked, his throat feeling dry.

"In the forest near the barn where we lived. It's not far from Minrathous. We can go there, if you'd like."

He shook his head. It was kind of her to offer, but he had no connection to the woman, and he'd feel superficial if he did visit.

"She'd be rolling in her grave if she knew what Varania did to you." Astoria offered. "We're not all out for ourselves, Fenris."

This was a comforting thought, and not one that he had imagined. Varania had said that things had been different after their mother had died, but he didn't know how. But that was why he went with Astoria in the first place, he reminded himself. To ask questions and get the answers he had always wanted.

"I suppose I should have come to that conclusion by now. What happened... after she died? Why did Varania leave you to become an apprentice?"

Astoria frowned, the memory unpleasant in her mind as she recalled the past several years. "After Sharna passed away, Varania decided that she didn't want to stay with Lysander and I. She had to move on, make something of herself, get a job as she said. She went into Minrathous and served at Ahriman's. But Danarius had seen her when he met with Ahriman for something, and he offered to take her in as an apprentice. He knew who she was. He offered her a lot, Fenris, and she was conflicted.

"But in the end, she accepted under his terms. He lied to her, told her that she'd be set for life, never have to worry about housing or money."

Fenris put a hand up to stop her and she did, folding her hands in her lap as sadness took over her features. He didn't want to hear her reasons, he didn't want to hear how she may have had possibly good intentions. He didn't want to feel guilty at all for trying to kill her.

"She should have told me about you." He muttered, placing the emptied bottle on the table with some force.

Astoria's eyes flickered with something like hope, and he realized that may have been too personal to admit. He told himself that it was the wine talking.

"What would you have done?" She asked softly, her voice barely audible over the dull noises of the alienage.

He shifted in the chair, feeling something in his stomach plummet. He hadn't expected her to turn this on him in such a way. It was an interesting question, and he knew the answer, but his lips couldn't form the words.

"Don't worry," she said when she saw that it made him uncomfortable. "You don't have to answer that. I wanted tonight to be cheerful, not..." She waved her hand vaguely.

"No, it isn't..." Fenris rubbed his forehead. "Thank you." He conceded, dropping his hands against his thighs and trying to give her a smile. "This was kind of you."

Astoria chuckled. "I'm just glad you still like my pie."

He let a small laugh escape him, and a silence ensued. It was comfortable in their drunken haze, the distant music sounding closer and the groups of elven men and women in the streets laughing or talking. Time passed, and the stars showed themselves over Thedas as the world fell into a soft and warm night.

He would have looked for her, but he was glad that he hadn't had to.


	19. Astoria 2

**Thank you Kira Tamarion and Wicked Lullaby, and thank you to everyone who has been reading, favoriting and watching! This is an Astoria chapter, and I hope you like it! =)**

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><p><em>Astoria's POV<em>

He has certainly come a long way since he tried strangling me in Kirkwall two months ago. The man that his friends spoke of was cruel, fierce and cold - a murderer. The Fenris as I see him is not those things. This Fenris needs a few things to grow back into the man he was. He needs answers. He needs solitude – somewhere safe where he can stop looking over his shoulder and allow himself to heal. He is a man that has only done what he's had to do to survive. He has always been that man.

I let my eyes trail over the paths of lyrium in his skin, lingering on the darkened scarred edges around the white markings. I try to do this when he isn't looking, but I know he sees me sometimes. He is always looking, and I don't know how much of that is vigilance or interest. As much as he hates his markings, I find them beautiful on a strictly aesthetic level. They accentuate him and the symmetry of his body.

I find myself constantly burning with an urge for us to revisit how we used to be emotionally and physically. He is as attractive as he has ever been, and that doesn't help me at all. I can't help it, how much I miss his arms around me, his lips pressed urgently on mine, his face nuzzling my neck lovingly, his knee gently nudging my legs apart... He used to be so affectionate, and now all I can say is that he has held my hand twice. It is a far cry from what I ache so terribly for.

I still do not regret seeking him out despite my heartache. But sometimes love is not enough to keep someone going. Him being here and yet so distant wears me thin and sometimes I am too tired to sleep, and I know that tonight will be one of those nights.

To my pleasant surprise, he likes learning about his past, and I like to tell him about it as painful as it is. Every question he has fans a tiny flame in my bones that watches vigilantly for any interest he may have. I am still desperately hoping that I will mention a memory that sparks a flashback in him, a flashback that _sticks_ and he can remember and expand upon. Of course, that doesn't happen, and I am left feeling like a dramatic widow who cannot stop projecting my grief on others.

He makes a quiet move to perch himself on the ledge, facing me, but not quite straddling it the way I do. He cares too much for self-preservation for that. He sits to the side, one foot on the roof and the other foot raised, his hands clasped on his lifted thigh.

"Did you ever sing that song to Lysander?" He asks, and I notice his beautiful jade eyes dart to mine and then back away over the lighted cityscape around us. He is nervous. For some reason I feel as though this is the first time he's said "Lysander" and not "the boy" or "your child."

I feel my heart thudding in my chest at the mention of my boy. My sweet little boy.

"Yes." I answer, debating inwardly if I want to say more. I always want to say more to Fenris, my Leto, but I usually restrain myself. I feel that I am putting him in this awkward position that he hates, like I'm trapping him in a terrible nightmare because I am selfish and I want him and Lysander back and I want the three of us to be a damn family because that's _all I've ever_ wanted.

Tonight I feel like saying more than I should. "He always loved to hear about you. He wanted to be a warrior like you."

I see Fenris swallow, and I wonder if the light wasn't so dim I'd see his ears turn pink. Every time I say something personal like this, I wonder if he's just going to get up and walk away.

He told me in passing once that "Fenris" meant "Little Wolf." He reminds me of a wolf now – the way he stalks more than walks, that silvery hair framing his face, his eyes that make me think of the cold forests of Ferelden, the way he snarls when he is especially angry. Leto was not quite a wolf. Leto was... more like a mabari. Fun loving, but fiercely loyal and dedicated.

The lights of the alienage make his markings look warmer than normal - he doesn't look so frightening. I realize he's caught me tracing them mentally up his arms before it's too late to look away. I smile sheepishly, and the scrutinizing gaze he held on me a second ago softens just slightly, though I wonder if I'm imagining it.

I hope that we are beyond the need to be wary of each other, though I don't know how this Fenris works. I don't know how much he trusts me, and I'm sure that it isn't much.

Fenris gets nervous easily. He conceals it well, but I can always see through that flutter of his beautiful jade eyes and the way his shoulders tense. He's nervous now, like he always is when something is uncertain.

"We're leaving soon," I say, because I realize this is the first time I've really been able to talk to him all day, "in a few days."

We have still not heard any word about who raided Danarius' mansion, or what magisters are the most interested in lyrium warriors. I feel terrible that we'll be mobilizing and he won't have any answers.

"So I hear," he replies quietly, his forest eyes grazing over the buildings. "I hope that Minrathous is not expecting us."

I swallow and nod because I only hope this as well. The lights of the city shine more on him than the fragile moonlight, casting shadows upwards on his face. Then I remember something and I chuckle, and Fenris glances at me apprehensively.

"I hear you've been training Siri to fight."

The corner of his lip curls slightly, but he doesn't look at me. "She's a fighter at heart," he says.

Oh, if only he had met Lysander. Spitting image in all ways of his father.

I nod in agreement. That's why they seem to like each other so much. "She's quite taken with you."

Fenris huffs a reply, more of a scoff than anything, and I chuckle softly to myself as I look away. I remember seeing Fenris on the roof a few weeks ago with Siri at his side, poking him and screeching and giggling and just being a child. He had looked irritated, but something at the sight of the two tugged at my heart. For brief seconds I could catch him smiling at the girl, or feigning interest as he listened to her rambling – and he even looked fatherly at times.

It's too much to hope for, I know that and I _have_ known that.

"What made you ask about the drawing?" I ask him and I see his shoulders shift only the slightest. His green eyes are planted on a tall building a half-mile away.

I don't think he's going to answer, and just as I'm about to change the subject, he clears his throat.

"I am curious about all of them."

I think my heart my drop out of my chest.

"Ask away." I want to know what he is interested in learning. I don't want to dump information on him that may be too intimate, too personal, but I don't want to leave out something that he may want to know.

For a quick moment he looks sheepish.

He has come a long way in these two months.

"There is one..." he begins slowly, his voice level and quiet, "where we are just sitting, staring off."

I know that one, painfully so.

"That was when it became official that you would enter into the competition." I say, and can't bring myself to tell him more. I can't tell him how my heart had broken at the thought of losing him, the nights he held me so tight against him because he knew they were coming to an early close. I can't tell him about the whispered promises of my freedom, the vows he would coo to me as he'd stroke my hair and kiss my shoulder.

I realize Fenris is watching me as I recall those final weeks, and that my expression has given away the anguish that I feel. Thankfully, he says nothing, though his eyes are searching and nearly pleading for me to give him more information.

I take a deep breath and dive.

"Varania drew you a lot in those last weeks," I explain shakily. "Many of them were taken when Danarius came looking for you, but Varania has the others."

The memory of Danarius coming to our door still makes me shudder. His eyes were so... he was evil, I hadn't thought twice about that. He had poked around our barn smugly, wrinkling his nose at our living conditions. And that smile he got when he saw Lysander still makes me cringe. I've wanted to murder the man ever since. I still have nightmares about him, replaying that moment I begged him not to take my son away.

Knowing that my Leto had been under that man's eerie gaze for two years brought me to tears.

I see him go still and I realize that I may have said too much. His jaw is set and his lips are curled in a slight frown. At least he's not glowing.

"Are you alright?" I manage and Fenris looks at me from under his snowy hair, uncertain and pained.

"I am..." he looks to his gauntleted hands, which are fumbling to gesticulate words that he cannot find. Then he sighs and I see that he has no intention of finishing his answer.

The night feels heavy and cool, and I feel like I've exhausted myself beyond the point anyone should. I can't stop thinking about Lysander at the mercy of a magister. I can't stop thinking about Varania withholding this information from me – she knew how to get in touch with me, who to send information to. I can't stop thinking about Leto, or Fenris, who is so different but in many ways still like the man I fell in love with years ago. It shames me to know that I am still in love with him.

But there is nothing to do but keep going, even if it kills me and every step breaks my heart.

"You don't know how badly I want to leave right now," I blurt because something inside me snaps and I can't hold it in anymore. "To know that Lysander is out there... that there is a living soul who knows where he is, and knows me... I can't stand it."

Fenris' brows lift just barely the way they do when he is surprised. He shifts his position on the ledge and dips his head slightly, seemingly unaware of what to say.

"I feel like I'm running in circles," I breathe, irritation seeping into my tone. Fenris thoughtfully taps his gauntleted fingers to each other, allowing me to have my moment to "brood."

He takes a breath for a moment and then hesitates. I squirm anxiously, waiting to hear him.

"I am glad that you are the one to have raised him."

I stare at him in shock for a moment, but he isn't looking at me. Thankfully, because the way his gaze just tears me in two would be too much to handle. I want to argue that I've failed, but I'm so awestruck by the compliment that I can't respond.

But then suddenly the door to the orphanage's roof is slammed open and the elf who was sitting with Garsen drinking ale is upon us, shouting.

We're being attacked.


	20. The Ambush

**Sorry to leave you guys on that cliffhanger - I couldn't resist. Thank you to Wicked Lullaby for the review on the last chapter! Now we're back to the normal POV. (I will never give Fenris' POV directly because I don't think I could pull it off).**

Suddenly Fenris found himself sprinting after Astoria, the two of them flying towards the door. The elf in front of them was shouting frantically, banging on every door they passed. The hallway was complete chaos with elves scrambling and gathering up their things as if they were leaving for good. There were no enemies that Fenris could see, no threat in the midst of the chaos.

As Astoria sprinted into her room to fetch her belongings, Fenris darted into his own, quickly shoving the drawing in the sack with the others and securing his few possessions to him. Gripping his sword he stepped out to the hallway and kicked Astoria's door open.

The clamor around them was deafening as Astoria jumped from her doorway, her daggers on her hips.

Fenris followed her down the hallway, more than a dozen elves flooding in and out around them. Eshan was shouting at someone in the war room as he frantically shoved his accumulated and unopened mail into a bag, another elf rolling up the map on the table.

Astoria turned right once they reached the main dining hall, and then ran off down towards the children's room. Fenris hurried behind her, unsure of what the plan was and if they were going to get out of the building in time. Whoever was attacking them wasn't inside just yet, but he didn't feel like being trapped.

"Siri! Paven! Martin! Naria! Soren! Uriana!" Astoria shouted, but she was not the only adult in the room when they reached it. Caroline was ushering the children towards them, all of them looking terrified as if they've woken up in a nightmare. Siri was sobbing when she reached the hallway, and when she saw Fenris she went to him.

Fenris looked down at the little girl crying at his feet as Astoria asked Caroline something rushed and frantic. Siri threw her tiny arms around Fenris and he stepped back, but the girl went with him.

Astoria turned around, and seeing his predicament, leaned down and pried Siri from Fenris. She cradled the little girl in her arms and bolted down the hallway, the other children in front of her and Caroline behind Fenris.

"Who's attacking us?" Fenris asked, his voice a near shout.

"I don't know," Astoria shouted back as Siri wailed in her ear.

The dining room was a mess – several elves guarded the main entry, still strapping their boots and gauntlets onto their bodies, while other elves filtered in from the rooms. Garsen was shouting, standing on top of a table, trying to command the attention of everyone in the room.

Astoria cradled Siri in her arms beside Fenris as he kept holding onto his great sword. Caroline, nearby, corralled the other children into a circle – the children so fear-stricken that they were listening without any argument.

Then Eshan was in the room and it only took one blood curdling whistle to direct everyone's attention to Garsen.

"A small army of Tevinter guards is coming to us right now – they are probably charging us with conspiring against the Imperium, an international crime. We will leave Tantervale as peacefully as possible – we heavily outnumber this group, but we need not resort to violence unless we have to!" Garsen ordered as Astoria hummed to Siri beside Fenris. He looked at her sidelong, amazed at her composure as she soothed the girl.

Something about this didn't seem right to Fenris. They couldn't just _leave_ Tantervale if they were all being accused of treason against the Tevinter Imperium. Behind them, Eshan began to shout to address the crowd.

"If our enemies will choose death, then they shall have it!" He shouted, with all the commanding presence of a war general. "May Andraste guide us."

Astoria locked eyes with Fenris beside her, and he saw her wide with emotion. Her lips were pursed, determined as she cradled Siri against her.

"I'm sorry," she said to him as the elves moved towards the exit; the children wailing and the recruits clearly frightened and uneasy.

Everything was too chaotic – Fenris was overwhelmed as he fell into step behind Astoria, who followed the crowd out of the orphanage. The alienage had gone dark and quiet around them – the city elves had retreated into their hovels and a hushed and panicked murmur fell upon the Tantervale rebellion.

Astoria went to the front of the crowd where Eshan and Garsen stood. She shifted Siri in her arms as the girl whimpered in fear. Fenris let his eyes wander over the group of twenty recruits, all poorly armored and anxiety-ridden. A handful of guards and sentries stood amongst them, and Caroline stood with the remaining five children all hanging off her skirt behind everyone else, hidden.

Fenris couldn't speak for the sentries and guards, but there were only four of them out of the entire group capable of skilled fighting – him, Eshan, Garsen and Astoria. His shoulders tensed and he tightened his grip on his sword at the thought of the approaching group of Tevinters.

He wanted to swear as a wash of maroon swept into the street from around a bend in the road. At the moment he wanted to curse Astoria for bringing him here, leading him into this trap. The memories of every time he had been ambushed flooded his mind.

A quick head count revealed eleven armed Tevinter bounty hunters like the ones that had been after Fenris for years. He growled in his throat as the recruits behind them went silent. The air seemed to have been sucked out of the alienage as curious sets of eyes peered out of the windows of the hovels.

Beside him, Astoria set Siri down and pushed the little girl behind her. Siri reached out and clutched Fenris' belt, stepping behind him and burying her face against the side of his leg, peeking out at the threat before them. Fenris didn't move, not even to shrug the girl off of him, as he inspected the Tevinters.

Some of them seemed shocked at the size of the group before them, which was a great sign, but a couple chuckled. They had thirty-five elves and one human on their side, including the children.

The distant music continued, the only sound in the alienage while Fenris took inventory of his enemy. Most of the Tevinters were carrying swords, but two had maces and one had a crossbow. That one would have to die quickly.

"Surrender yourselves and your weapons over," said one of the bounty-hunters, gesturing with his sword. "You are all charged with treason against the Tevinter Imperium – an offense punishable by death. Surrender peacefully and we will lessen your sentencing."

They didn't have the power to do that, he knew. Fenris could feel Siri shaking against him. All was quiet on their end for a moment, before Astoria spoke.

"What is your evidence?" She demanded, her hands on the hilts of her daggers. Fenris sucked in a breath and shot her a glare, but she had her eyes planted ahead of her.

One of the Tevinters chuckled. "A human?" He wondered aloud, taking one step forward. "Don't lower yourself by keeping company with these traitors, wench."

Astoria, to her credit, maintained her steady composure. "I ask you again, what is your evidence against us?" Eshan stepped up beside her and shot a glance behind him at the other recruits.

Fenris was bristling.

"Some of your own have given you away," chuckled the man, his chain armor moving noisily on his arm. "In particular it seems the children you harbor have loose mouths."

Astoria's knuckles were bone-white as she gripped her daggers, but didn't unsheathe them. "What have you done to Pedran?"

Fenris remembered her asking about Pedran, a little boy who had been missing. He felt the girl against him tighten her grip on his belt, burying her face in the fabric on the outside of his thigh. Fenris turned and met eyes with Caroline, trying to communicate with her to fetch Siri. He needed to be with Astoria and Eshan if things came to blows.

Caroline crept forward, prying Siri from Fenris' leg. She brought the girl back with the other children, but he could hear Siri starting to cry, away from the only two people that seemed to bring her peace. Fenris cursed the children inwardly, wishing they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. And then he realized that this would be his perfect opportunity to escape, to run off.

He could do it, he thought. He could get out of Tantervale, head back home.

A Tevinter beside the one that had been speaking flashed a toothless grin at Astoria, holding his crossbow. "What do you think we did with him? He was a knife-ear little runt!" The man laughed out loud and spit at the ground.

Astoria flashed a glance behind her, her eyes lingering on Fenris for only a moment as he stepped to her side, again realizing that he had already made his choice and couldn't go back. They had good odds anyway. Twenty-nine of them were at least slightly trained for fighting, against eleven Tevinter bounty hunters. It was almost three-to-one, and Fenris liked those odds. But they weren't all as skilled as him.

Beside him, Astoria pulled out her bow, though Eshan hissed at her not to.

"Let us by," Astoria hissed at them, "and we won't kill you."

The man laughed, letting his dark eyes survey the crowd before him. "I think we could cut all you knife-ears down before you could get one of us. Except for that slippery one, maybe," the man nodded towards Fenris with a knowing eye. "He has quite the bounty on his head. Nice to see you again, _slave_."

Fenris was sure he hadn't seen this man before, at least not up close. But the man had a crossbow, and there were plenty of archers that he had had to leave behind in his countless escapes fleeing varying cities. He couldn't count how many times archers had fired at him from rooftops, their arrows narrowly missing him as he tried to disappear into the nights.

He hadn't known that he was still wanted even with Danarius dead. _Of course_, he thought. His markings cursed him endlessly. All of the magisters must be out trying to claim what was Danarius' favorite "pet."

Fenris snarled, knowing that he'd be upset if they _didn't_ come to blows at this point.

Astoria came to his defense immediately, her voice icy and fierce. "He is a free man."

Eshan intervened. "We are all free. and if you only accuse us of treason based on the word of a child under duress, we will not surrender to you."

"We will enjoy putting you in your place, knife-ear," said a man with a mace to Eshan before glancing at the rest of the Tevinters. "Keep the tattooed one alive, we can feed ourselves for months on his bounty. Kill the others."

The children screamed as everyone readied their weapons and the street erupted into chaotic violence. Fenris swore, the flurry of movement around him a mess as some of the recruits ran ahead blindly with little regard for their safety, while a few cowered behind.

Astoria had an arrow cocked and ready to go as Eshan's blade connected with a Tevinter's, the sound of metal upon metal ringing through the street. Garsen was rushing to a man with a mace. Caroline was pushing the children into a dark alleyway, out of the imminent threat as recruits and Tevinter bounty hunters swarmed the area.

Astoria let her arrow whistle into the neck of the man with the crossbow. Letting out a quick breath of relief at the rogue collapsing to the ground, Fenris raised his sword and ran into the chaos.

* * *

><p>It was difficult to keep track of who was fighting with who. Fenris focused on being the terrifying whirlwind that he was, letting his lyrium glow as he cleaved a man through his snapping collarbone. The sound of metal upon metal was deafening when coupled with the shouting, the screaming, the grunting of men and women around him falling.<p>

Fenris spun on the heel of his foot, swinging his sword up to find himself parrying a mace. He hated maces. The weight distribution on the opposing weapon was different than his own, and harder to stop than a sword if it had enough momentum behind it.

Someone knocked into him from his left side. A foolish, inexperienced recruit with blood seeping from his poor armor slumped against Fenris like a drunk as Fenris staggered. It took him a second too long to steady himself as the mace slammed into his side, not hitting dead on but still breaking at least one rib.

Fenris let out a swear through his clenched teeth, trying not to shout in pain as he stumbled further. The pain shot through him like lightning and the edges of his vision blurred.

The man took another few steps towards him, raising the mace up again with a wild look in his eyes. Fenris tried to lift his sword but struggled with it, the pain racing up and down his side as his breathing became labored and blood seeped from the wound.

Just as Fenris was going to jump backwards, the blade of a familiar dagger lodged itself in the Tevinter's chest, having been flung from several feet away. Astoria rushed to the man, finally at Fenris' defense as the Tevinter tried to pull the dagger from his body with a shout, his mace falling to the ground.

Astoria had her blade at the man's throat just as he gasped and grappled with her. But her blade cut him, even as he managed to push her off of him. Fenris was steady on his feet an instant later, reaching for the dropped mace because as far as he knew, only one of his arms was in commission with the excruciating pain on the other side. He raised the mace and swung with it, lodging it in the man's face with a sickening crack.

The body collapsed, the flame of life extinguished, but the fight was not over. Astoria had her daggers back in her hands and she glanced around frantically.

From a quick count he knew that there were at least five Tevinter down already, but there were other elves laying lifeless among them. Garsen was doing alright, fighting a single Tevinter while Eshan fought two.

Fenris dislodged the mace from the man's face, his side aching sharply. He glanced at it, horrified at the amount of blood dripping down from it. The pain nearly blinded him.

Another man was running at Fenris, and he knew he had to defend himself despite the pain.

But he wasn't alone. Astoria bounded forward, another recruit rushing to her side as they took down the man. He hissed in his dying breath as Astoria's blades sliced into him.

Fenris went to Garsen's aid, swinging the mace into the back of the opposing Tevinter before lighting up his lyrium and running to the next as fast as he could – which was more of a limp as he tried to keep his torso stiff.

Everything was utter chaos, with pain nearly bringing him to his knees and the screaming around him as people – both allies and enemies died around him in the blue velvet of the night. There was a swarm of recruits in front of him, crowding around something that Fenris couldn't see.

He stopped and looked around briefly. Only four Tevinter remained on their feet that he could see, and three of them were already running for their lives with about seven elves on their heels, chucking their weapons at the Tevinters as they raced away from the battle. Now _that_ was a sight.

Fenris saw Astoria cut down the last one standing, blood streaking her hair and limbs. And like that, most of the chaos was over. There was a commotion among the group of recruits that were huddled around – something was wrong where they were. But Fenris ignored them and went to Astoria, each step causing a flash pain to go streaking through his body, the air sucking in through his clenched teeth.

Astoria retched between her knees, her body trembling with the effort.

"Are you injured?" He asked, his voice a gruff growl with effort it took to inhale.

Astoria shook her head eventually, not responding at first, before she stood and staggered back slightly. Her eyes were brimmed with tears.

A scream reached their ears from up the street as the pursuing elves killed one of the fleeing Tevinters.

Astoria pushed a bloodied streak of hair out of her eyes and gasped at Fenris. Her eyes were wide with concern and fear. "Oh, Fenris, shit!" She stepped towards him but he backed up, throwing a hand out to keep her from coming close.

"Don't-" he ordered, but suddenly someone was screaming for her.

"Astoria!" Shouted one of the recruits from the huddle of elves. She glanced between Fenris and the recruits, who were beckoning her over, looking panicked and conflicted. She couldn't decide who to tend to, but Fenris kept his hands out. He had suffered worse anyhow.

She ran to the other elves and they stepped aside to reveal Eshan, laying on the ground.

She cried out to Garsen and Caroline to help Eshan, before turning and sprinting off in the direction of the pursuing elves to tear down whatever Tevinters remained.

Fenris limped after her, stepping around the bodies on the ground, their hollow eyes void of life.

The end of the battle had not been the end of the chaos, like Fenris had hoped. He had gone slowly after Astoria in pursuit of the last surviving Tevinters, only to find out that one of them had escaped the alienage. They passed the other two dead in the middle of the streets, an elf among them. There had been a struggle and it was a gruesome sight.

Fenris helped the elves and Astoria bring the bodies back towards the Base, trying his best to ignore the searing pain that ripped through him. A headcount revealed that seven elven recruits had died amongst the ten dead Tevinter bounty hunters. Eshan was incapacitated, but Caroline was confident that he would survive as she began tending to his wounds in the middle of the street. The children were wailing and sobbing in the alley by themselves, forgotten in the midst of it all.

Astoria was limping, but she was assessing the wounded as Garsen worked to move the bodies. They would have to be burned in the street. It was the only way they could get rid of them and still leave Tantervale.

Fenris gathered up the weapons of those that had died and brought them to a pile outside of the Base. As he dropped a sword on the pile, he felt tiny arms wrap around him, a blubbering and wailing child at his feet.

"Siri," he gasped with a frown. How much had the little girl seen? How had no one attended to them yet? "Go inside," he told her as he turned. "Bring the others with you."

Siri sobbed against his leg, refusing to budge, and Fenris helplessly stood there and watched around him, trying to keep from passing out. Caroline hovered over Eshan, wrapping him up in bandages and rubbing ointments on his skin as Garsen and other recruits began to build a fire.

After a minute or so of the girl crying against him, Astoria went to them from across the street, looking bleary-eyed and fearful.

"Siri, sweetheart, come here," she said to the girl, crouching down and holding her arms out. Siri let go of Fenris and ran to Astoria, needing to be comforted more than anything. "Fenris, you need to get that looked at."

He scowled at her, his shallow breath hissing through his teeth. "This should not have happened. Any of this. Why did you threaten them?"

Astoria sucked in a breath as she picked up Siri in her arms and held her, leaning precariously on one foot. "They will never stop pushing, Fenris. Not unless we stand up for ourselves."

The little girl clutched to Astoria similar to the way Astoria had clutched to Fenris in that drawing. He felt his stomach plummet as he looked out at the solemn sight around the. None of the city elves were coming out to help them. They were probably hiding in their homes, discussing what they had seen from the safety of their windows. They wouldn't be accomplices to the slaughter, wouldn't help each other.

He hated alienages.

"We need to get out of here," he told her. The guards would be down there any minute, they needed to be gone from the city.

Astoria nodded, her expression solemn. "We are all leaving the city tonight. I am sorry I have brought you here."

Fenris glowered at her, but could not say anything. He trembled with anger and blood loss, and the night felt unbearably heavy around him. He needed to lay down, despite the urgency of the situation.

"What does this mean? For the rebellion?"

Astoria rocked the girl in her arms, Siri's face buried against Astoria's neck as she considered. A female elven recruit was working on getting the rest of the children into the orphanage, away from the sight of carnage.

"Only our branch, as far as I know, has been discovered. We will still work as we have. I think it is likely that those bounty-hunters just happened to catch wind of us. The other branches would have been shut down long before us if the Imperium recognized us."

Fenris was still scowling as Astoria shifted Siri in her arms.

"Your side," she reminded him softly.

"It is fine."

"I saw a mace smash your ribcage, Fenris. Let me look at it."

He almost refused her help, but he knew he had to accept it. If there was anyone in Thedas who didn't mean him harm, it was probably her.

"You think you can fix this?" He asked, his voice marginally softer than it had been.

She scoffed and nodded. "I have a son, Fenris. I know how to fix everything."

* * *

><p>Fenris dropped his breastplate to the ground with one hand as he sat on his bed, before working with his clothing to pull it off without aggravating his wound. Astoria stood on the other side of his door, talking to someone. He could hear every word as he sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, a piece of cloth snagging on the bleeding wound.<p>

"They're being burned now?" Astoria had asked.

"Yes," answered a female elf. "We've sent sentries to the entrance of the alienage, but so far there isn't any sign of the city guard. Garsen thinks we might be safe, at least until that last Tevinter goes back to the Imperium."

"How is Eshan?"

"Caroline says that he'll recover fully. He's already awake."

"And the children?"

Fenris sighed as he dropped his tunic on the floor, feeling vulnerable and exposed, half naked. He waited for Astoria and glanced at the wound, the punctures bleeding more with every inhalation.

"Caroline is in there with them, I'm going to go help her out. They're not doing so well. Siri is screaming for you."

"Tell Siri I will see her soon. Thank you, Valla."

"Yes, Astoria."

The doorknob to Fenris' room turned as Astoria stepped in, carrying a bandage, cloth, water and ointment. She moved silently to sit next to Fenris on the bed, setting everything down on the floor at their feet.

Astoria dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and wrung it out before turning to Fenris, pausing at his intricate markings winding down and across his chest. He scowled at her, and she noticed.

"I've seen you naked before, Fenris." She sighed, her eyes trailing over the paths of lyrium intertwining with each other in perfect symmetry.

"Before I looked like a monster," he remarked angrily with a snort.

Astoria frowned, her brow furrowing. "You don't look like a monster."

Fenris tensed as Astoria touched the wet cloth to his skin, and he hissed at the feeling of it, swearing in Arcanum. Astoria worked slowly on cleaning the wound.

"The wounds aren't terribly deep," she said softly, her fingers curled around his bicep to hold his arm out of the way as she pressed the cloth to his side to stop the bleeding. Fenris shut his eyes and bowed his head as the pain blurred his vision.

But it wasn't as bad as getting branded. Nothing was as bad as that, and if he could deal with that, he could survive this, he thought.

After several minutes of holding the cloth against his skin and gripping his bicep, Astoria began to hum. It would have annoyed Fenris, possibly, if he hadn't had that conversation with her earlier. But now that he knew what that song was about, he didn't want her to stop. He zeroed in on the soft music to distract him from the pain, and found himself even nodding off. He didn't even hear her leave.

**Bah, combat is so difficult to write. Let me know what you guys think! =) I was going to split this up into two chapters, but whatever. I'm about 10,000 words ahead of this in the story, so here you go.**


	21. Departure

**Thank you to Wicked Lullaby, Bear Mage and Fallon-Idalia for the reviews! =)**

The unwanted dawn came quickly. That night the rebellion focused on burning the bodies, the evidence as well as tending to the wounded and preparing to leave Tantervale. Once Astoria had cleaned Fenris' wound and loosely wrapped it to catch any further bleeding, she had worked through the night with everyone else.

He had dozed and drifted in and out of consciousness, but never really slept the way someone should. The orphanage was loud; everyone was frantic and rushing about. Astoria checked on him periodically, and he knew that in between everything she hadn't had time to wash the blood from her hair. With Eshan wounded as he was, Garsen and Astoria had to step up and take temporary control over the rebellion.

But their time was running out, and Fenris knew he needed to help in order to get them out of Tantervale as soon as possible. He stumbled out of the orphanage, bleary from blood loss, and looked around. The bodies weren't burning fast enough, the stench in the alienage almost unbearable.

Other than the rebels, there were no others around. The elves of the alienage were avoiding coming out of their homes in case the city guard swooped down upon them and hauled them all off to the gallows.

Astoria was rummaging through a stack of mail that Eshan had never gotten to. Fenris limped to her, frowning at how exhausted she looked.

"Are we almost ready to go?" He asked.

"Not yet," Astoria said softly, her eyes scanning over a sheet of vellum before she dropped it and opened another one. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he lied. It hurt to breathe and his side throbbed painfully, but he could ignore it. It paled in comparison to his first memories.

Astoria tossed a sheet of vellum aside and ripped open the next one.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for information. I need to see if we're the only ones that have been found out." Judging by the opened stack that had accumulated at her feet, she had been going through it for a while.

"Would we be that lucky?"

Astoria shook her head. "We are never lucky." She paused on the vellum she read. "Oh, shit, Fenris-"

He narrowed his eyes at the vellum in her hands. "What?"

"It says here – no, just read it."

He held the letter out and read it impatiently.

_Astoria,_

_ I regret to inform you that I don't have any information in regards to your son, and I also cannot tell you what magisters research lyrium warriors. However, I can tell you who raided the estate that you speak of. A magister by the name of Valinius, to the best of my knowledge, was the one who raided Danarius' estate. He is young and power-hungry, and he lives just outside of Asariel. I hope that helps you in your search._

_Hollan, Coordinator of the Minrathous branch_

Astoria was watching Fenris with intensity as he read. He met her gaze levelly.

"Valinius." He muttered, folding the vellum and stuffing it into one of his packs on his belt.

"Is he familiar to you?"

"No."

Astoria nodded. The way she stared at him, Fenris knew she was trying to predict how he was going to react. It made him incredibly self conscious of how volatile he was – how much people expected him to be the sudden storm that he was. As his heart rate increased, he tried to breathe steadily, though each breath caused him pain.

Valinius may possess all of the known information on Fenris' lyrium. If he could find answers anywhere, they would be in the walls of Valinius' home. This was another lead, the lead that Fenris wanted.

Astoria took a tentative step towards him. "Then we're going to Asariel."

The gratitude he felt at hearing those words was astounding – as if closure, his very sanity, was actually visible on the distant horizon. Astoria smiled at him and squeezed his arm reassuringly. Fenris shivered, but looked looked around; at the fire that burned in the center of the small square, at the elves that loaded up a wooden cart with the few supplies this branch of the rebellion had.

"What if the city guard come here before we have time to leave?" He asked suddenly, the anxiety of their precarious situation unsettling him deeply.

"We have some connections with the guard – since we take all those 'poor, filthy elven children off the street,'" she said with disgust directed at the guard, "and we keep the peace down here. I would say that the Tevinter who escaped would be our biggest threat – if there are any other slavers or bounty hunters in the city, I imagine that he'll be gathering them."

Fenris nodded slowly and then smirked, the tense situation seeming to ebb away. "You have blood in your hair still."

Astoria chuckled. "No more than you do, I imagine."

He hadn't seen his reflection. He lifted a wary hand to his head and felt it had crusted with blood, but he knew it was not his own.

"That is a good point though," Astoria said as she gathered up the mail at her feet into a neat stack, "I suppose we can't sneak out of Tantervale until we get cleaned up – being covered in blood might draw some suspicion."

Fenris snorted in response, looking at the elves around them – exhausted, anxious, afraid and bloody. "In that case, we'll be lucky to get out of here by sundown."

* * *

><p>Fenris had been right in his prediction. It was dusk by the time the rebellion had finally gathered as one on the Minanter River, outside of Tantervale. Throughout the day, several groups had left the city, with a couple hours in between as to not draw too much suspicion.<p>

Twenty-two of them began their journey east down the wide river. Caroline and the children had stayed at the orphanage, of course, as there was no place for them to join the imminent fighting. This left Astoria, Fenris, Garsen, Eshan and the rest of the recruits that hadn't died from the previous night's battle.

They set up camp on the banks of the river only an hour into their journey, with the vast Tantervale city behind them. Everyone was exhausted and supplies were limited because they had left Tantervale days before they had planned. Luckily, with twenty-two people, the night watch was quick for each and most people could sleep through the entire night. This was welcome news to Fenris.

He settled on the riverbank, a bit away from everyone else. Astoria had given him a woolen blanket, which was more than some others had, before she had gone to help some elves set up a net in the river to catch fish.

Feeding this many people would be a nightmare, Fenris was sure of it as he sat near the water and looked around in the growing dark.

A twig snapping behind him startled him, and he reached for his sword before he heard the voice behind him.

"Whoa, it's only me."

Garsen's voice sounded from behind him. Fenris relaxed and looked over his shoulder, eyes drawn narrow.

"What is it?"

Garsen stood beside him before sitting down a couple feet away. "Astoria says that you've broken a couple ribs. How do you feel?"

Fenris wondered why Garsen was trying to be friendly. That wasn't like them. "I'm fine," he replied with a frown. A campfire was building in the center of the camp, but he was too far to feel any warmth from it.

"That's good. We need a good warrior like you around."

"I can't help you train them just yet," Fenris said quickly.

Garsen shook his head. "No, you misunderstand me. I am a good friend of Astoria's, and yet she has told me so little about you. I just want some information."

This didn't sound good to Fenris. "What kind of information?"

Garsen took a breath, uneasy. "You're a lyrium warrior. I want to know about that. If I may be so bold, what is your bounty?"

Fenris felt himself beginning to scowl. "I hardly see how this is your business."

Garsen visibly tensed. "It isn't exactly, but you would be doing the rebellion a great service if you could help me."

He failed to see how someone knowing his bounty would help the rebellion. He didn't even know his own bounty, though he figured it was astronomical.

Fenris glanced around at the elves – most of them hopeless and frustrated with their second class position in society. He hated the Imperium as much as any of them, but the rebellion seemed weak and hopeless to him. They were still his best chance at finding information about his markings and finding Astoria's son, and that was something he had reluctantly committed to.

"What do you want to know?" He asked eventually.

"Well... Astoria never told us that you were a lyrium warrior, and I've asked her about it, and she told me to ask you." As Garsen took a deep breath, Fenris silently felt grateful that Astoria had respected his privacy so much as to not tell everyone about him. "I'd like to know... how do you get the markings? How does it work? What can you do?"

"Why?"

"We could use more like you, honestly."

Fenris scowled, clenching his fists. "I would never wish this curse on anybody."

Garsen, looking genuinely surprised, sputtered for a response. "I - I didn't know that you saw then negatively." Garsen stood up and brushed off his pants nervously, but then he seemed to steel himself. "If you change your mind, let me know. There are some that would not see that as a curse."

Fenris didn't answer as Garsen left him by the river, seething. He wondered why Astoria had said so little about him – he was appreciative of it, but if she was such good friends with Garsen, why hadn't she told him anything? Perhaps she couldn't understand his markings herself, which Fenris realized was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

It struck him how little she knew about him post-markings. He had told her so little in his own efforts to learn about his past, that he hadn't realized that the past nine years of his life were almost completely unknown to her. Yes, she knew who he had spent his time with, she knew little details about Danarius, but she didn't know how he escaped, how he had spent so many years just running.

It wasn't long until Astoria went to Fenris and knelt down beside him that he found himself wanting to tell her about everything; Seheron, the Fog Warriors, his years just running from city to city.

"How are you doing?" She asked softly, digging out a small hole in the ground in which to prop up her torch.

"I'm fine," he replied.

"I wanted to look at your wound, if that's alright with you."

Fenris nodded, glancing around. There was no one close by, not that it made him want to take his clothes off any more, but he had the blanket anyway. He put his breastplate on the ground and got out of his tunic while Astoria busied herself with a clean bandage that she had, keeping her eyes on anything but him. Fenris laid down on his back and pulled the blanket over himself, exposing only the area Astoria needed to see.

"It's been bleeding again," she noted softly. A cool and damp cloth pressed against his side as Fenris tensed uncomfortably, hissing a breath through his teeth at the pressure on the broken bones. "Just from moving around, though, I'm sure. You were lucky that the mace didn't hit you the way he had meant it."

The first stars were beginning to show in the sky, the wide river rushing against the riverbanks as it bled east and raced towards the sea. A village across the river shone as tiny lights, like Wilder had when they had slept on the lake.

"Garsen wanted to know how to 'make more of me,'" Fenris said bitterly. He felt Astoria's care on his wound pause momentarily.

"Oh, no, did he?" Astoria asked softly, "I'm sorry, Fenris – he doesn't know. I think he admires your... abilities."

Fenris growled low in his throat. "Does he admire my memory loss? Does he admire that I will forever be hunted for my 'abilities?'"

Astoria hummed. "No, he doesn't know about any of that."

"So it seems." He frowned, clenching his fists at a sharp pain racing through him. "Why didn't you tell him?"

Astoria furrowed her brow, confused. "It wasn't his business. I _can_ tell him, if you'd like, but I... I don't know how to explain them either. I can't tell anyone how you can just _plunge_ your fist through someone. I can _try_ to explain, but -"

"No, don't, I'm glad you didn't." Her fingertips grazed his skin away from his wound, and the touch made him shiver. It must have been accidental because she drew her hand back quickly. "Do they wonder why we don't act like we're... married?"

She chuckled, but the sound seemed grim. "Yes. They're like noblewomen with how they gossip."

"And if they don't know about my memory... what do you tell them?"

"I don't tell them anything. I let them assume what they want. Some of them think you're in love with someone in Kirkwall, some think that you and I just drifted apart, some have other assumptions."

Fenris frowned. He knew that Astoria was respected in the rebellion, for whatever reason. He hadn't realized how much his presence may have disrupted her standing, if it had. What if some of them saw her as someone to be pitied, a woman whose husband left her and now shows her no affection, only following her because of a duty to a child.

He knew immediately that it would have been easier for her to forget about him, to tell people that her husband had died. But she hadn't, and that showed an honest bravery that Fenris was not used to. He knew how he seemed to others – cold, unforgiving, uncaring – and surely those were not traits that others would imagine Astoria's husband to have. Just explaining to others that they were married must look badly on her.

Fenris frowned at this realization while Astoria silently cleaned his wound with meticulous care and gentle hands.

"I'm going to miss our sparring sessions," she chuckled.

Fenris was still for a moment before he let himself smirk. "I enjoy them as well."

He saw Astoria smile out of the corner of his eye as she put a hand on his shoulder. "Sit up so I can wrap this."

He did as asked and watched the firelight of Astoria's torch play across her face, her hair loose and laying across her back, no longer caked with the blood of Tevinter bounty hunters.

"You must be tired," he said, noticing the bruised-looking circles under her eyes as she leaned forward and reached around him, pulling the bandage around him. He caught a whiff of her lavender-scented hair as she pulled away.

"I'm exhausted."

"You should stop taking care of everyone else. This isn't _your_ rebellion." He suggested. Astoria smirked and tied the bandage around him, resting her palms on her knees when she was finished.

"This isn't _my_ rebellion, it's ours." She gestured to the elves at the camp. "Everyone brings something to the table."

"Oh? Most of them are helpless – they can't fight, they can't hunt -"

Astoria frowned and shook her head in disagreement. "So let's educate them, Fenris, let's teach them. Do you know how hard it is to oppress a population that has _seen_ the other side of the fence? Isn't that why Danarius felt that he had to erase your memories? By telling ourselves that we are hopeless, we set ourselves up for disaster, and we practically ask for the magisters to take us."

Fenris met her gaze in the dim firelight, the buzz of the camp behind him. He knew she was right, and perhaps that's why she had such standing within the rebellion, being the only human. Maybe that was why he had married her in the first place – hadn't he been enamored with elven culture? Marrying a human was out of the question for many elves, but there must have been something about her to grab his attention in the first place.

Fenris sighed and moved to put his tunic back on, grunting slightly in the effort it took.

"You're right," he said. "But... what will you do if you get the boy back? Will you stay and help the rebellion?"

Astoria gazed at him with an unreadable expression for a while before taking a breath and speaking. "I'm not sure. I don't think I would stay. I can't keep him in danger like that. If... if you," Fenris realized whatever she was about to say was difficult for her, "do not want to be in his life, I will take him to Ferelden."

Fenris nodded, looking down at the ground. He had no idea what he would do after this entire thing was over.

Sensing his discomfort, like she had a knack for doing, Astoria squeezed his arm reassuringly. "I am not asking you to do anything, Fenris. The fact that you are here now is... it seems a miracle in itself. I will not hold you to anything in the future."

He nodded, his throat feeling tight as he struggled to find words to say, to thank her for being unassuming and gentle and not making him feel guilty or obligated. Astoria gathered up the bloodied bandage and other supplies that she had gone to him with.

"Sleep well, tonight, Fenris. And I encourage you to sleep on your injured side."

"What? Really?"

"Yes. And take deep breaths occasionally."

He nodded again. "Where will you be?"

Astoria plucked the torch from the ground and looked at the rest of the camp. "I'm going to help Garsen ration out our food and take inventory on what exactly we have. And then I'm going to sleep. Anything else you need?"

"No. Thank you."

"Of course, Fenris." Astoria turned and left him on the bank with his constant thoughts and the dark night closing in on Thedas.

* * *

><p>Three nights later, Fenris finally had his first watch since leaving Tantervale. That was the one luxury of traveling with so many people, he admitted to himself. Most nights, he could expect to get a full night's sleep.<p>

His shift was the first one, which was always the easiest one to stay awake through. He assumed that people were too frightened of him to wake him up in the middle of the night, and that was alright with him.

The camp had settled down finally, and the moon was high in the dark sky. The night was cooler than usual for the springtime, and people were huddled under their blankets near the fire. Fenris looked around for Astoria out of instinct, and saw her laying on the ground without a blanket near a woman that reminded him of Orana. She was curled in on herself in the fetal position and Fenris felt guilt swarm through him.

She had given him a blanket days ago, and in doing so probably had gone without since then. He hadn't bothered to think about it until now.

With a frown, Fenris went for his own blanket, and draped it over her gently, avoiding touching her. It was the least he could do, really, for everything that she had done for him thus far. He felt that he owed her – for finding him, giving him answers, her patience, his birthday.

Fenris turned to the sound of a chuckle nearby. Eshan was looking at him while he sharpened his sword, sitting on the edge of the wagon they used to carry the communal supplies. Fenris frowned at him, but Eshan waved him over, inviting him to talk.

"Nice work the other night," Eshan complimented. "How long have you been training as a warrior?"

Fenris stepped towards Eshan and gave a slight shrug. "I'm not sure."

"That long, eh?" Eshan turned back to his sword. "No know, I argued with her not to leave the rebellion to go fetch you."

Fenris tensed instantly, like a coiled spring, as he peered at Eshan. He hadn't heard this before.

Eshan shrugged as he continued sharpening the blade. "I wouldn't have bothered if I had known you'd be such a capable fighter."

"Well, she didn't know either." Fenris glanced around him apprehensively.

Eshan raised his gaze from the sword to Fenris curiously. "No?"

Fenris knew Eshan was fishing for information, but since he had spoken with Astoria a few nights before, he felt badly for her that the others assumed he had left her for another woman. He hadn't realized how his presence had potentially changed everyone's perception of her. He had wondered if the others wondered why she would marry a man like him – so broken and cold as he was. Surely he wasn't reflecting well on her. She was a woman of high standing in the rebellion, looked up upon by the new recruits.

Fenris decided to tell the truth to Eshan. He didn't want to be the one to ruin Astoria's reputation.

"I lost all of my memory as a slave," he said, his voice hoarse, "so I did not know that Astoria was even... that she existed until she showed up at my door two months ago."

Eshan watched Fenris carefully, trying to glean more information. "Truly?"

"Truly."

Fenris looked at Eshan, who had narrowed his eyes and was now looking out onto the camp of the sleeping recruits. "Oh, I suppose that makes sense."

Fenris nodded. "I never knew the child."

"I know."

Fenris turned to him, confused.

Eshan chuckled. "I met Astoria a long time ago, back when she was pregnant with him. She was stealing some crops from us," Fenris tilted his head, remembering what this story was – Astoria had told him this, "and when the dogs started barking – we all ran out into the field, ready to chase some thieving kid off the farm."

Eshan chuckled again, pausing the sharpening of his sword as he gestured, "Of course, we ran into her instead. We weren't about to kill a starving pregnant woman, so we told her to go. The next morning, boy, she gave me a heart attack when I saw her on our doorstep. Before I ended up going to Tantervale, to open up a branch of the rebellion, I spent some time with that boy.

"He had a fire in him. You know, the way Astoria does?"

Fenris was frowning, but he nodded. He knew what Eshan meant by the fire. The way she had gotten him moving in the mountains when all he wanted to do was run, the way her compliments dug themselves under his skin and made him feel less a creature of violence and more of a man, the fierce way that her family, or his family, meant everything to her.

"She always said that he was more like his father than her, but I don't see it."

Fenris wasn't sure if he was being insulted or not, but he listened anyway. It became apparent that Eshan wasn't going to continue on the matter, and Fenris quietly accepted that. He didn't want to ask Eshan questions, didn't want to hear his opinion or his version of things.

"You need to be careful, Fenris," Eshan said. Fenris snapped his gaze towards the man, confused. "With her, I mean. Make sure she doesn't... get reckless in her search for him."

"What do you mean?"

Eshan chuckled. "I admire her determination, but you have to make sure she's careful. She's so set out to get Lysander back that she'll risk anything for it. It's good you're here, because she might actually listen to you. She'd get herself killed otherwise – she'd be halfway to Minrathous without a plan."

Fenris knew what he meant – he remembered needing to get between her and the exit back at the orphanage, when she found out that Varania had information about Lysander.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," Eshan continued, "that's the attitude you need, but don't let her get herself killed."

"I won't."

Eshan chuckled. "She's a tough one. She will dance in the face of the Dread Wolf and spit on him."

Fenris felt the corners of his lips tugging in response. He knew that so well – how she had whacked his arm, being dangerously defiant and brave as she tried to get him moving again in the Vimmark Mountains.

"So, tomorrow we will reach the ferry to Hasmal. We will all need to cross it, but we don't have the money for that. I need someone to go into Hasmal and talk with Oshan – he's the coordinator of the Hasmal branch of the rebellion. I need to send Astoria – she can talk a mabari out of a meat cart. I'll be going with her as well, so I need you to stay back with Garsen."

"Why?"

"We need some skilled fighters to stay back with the recruits. We'll only be gone the night."

He didn't know why Astoria's absence would bother him so much. Immediately he grew anxious. He didn't want to stay here with Garsen and the other recruits. Astoria was his only comfort, his only lifeline to answers – the things he had been searching for for years. Tomorrow, she would be across that wide river, out of reach.

"I'd rather go with you two."

Garsen nodded as an elf tended to the campfire. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I can't risk it. If the wrong person sees you tomorrow in Hasmal – we'll be awaiting an ambush on our way back."

Fenris sighed. He couldn't exactly argue with someone like Eshan, who was like a war general as respected as he was. He would have to stick it out and wait for Astoria to be back with Eshan, as unpleasant as he expected waiting to be – with all the recruits who seemed intimidated by him. Some of them downright just didn't seem to like him at all. Not that that was anything new.

"Very well," Fenris said with a curt nod, his forest green eyes scanning the scene before him.

"Good." Eshan held up his sword and examined it carefully. "Now, I'm going to get some sleep. Wake me when your watch is over."

**Bah, such a boring chapter, sorry. If I put the next part in it would just be too long. **


	22. Betrayal

**Thank you to Wicked Lullaby for the review on the last chapter! Enjoy, let me know what you think!**

The next day it rained. Booming thunderstorms rolled in from the north, crackling and filling the air with static and heaviness, like a hot woolen blanket. A hazy, gray light bathed the land beside the Minanter River as the hungry rebellion moved west.

Astoria walked beside Fenris, seeming to be in deep concentration all morning as she didn't hum or sing. She had had a discussion with Eshan that morning while the camp had gotten ready to leave, and from what Fenris could understand, it hadn't gone well. Since then, she had been near scowling – something very uncharacteristic of her.

"What is it?" He asked finally, irritated.

Astoria had been fiddling with her daggers – spinning them dexterously in her fingers. He was waiting for her to nick herself with them, but it hadn't happened yet. She stopped for a moment and gave him a smile – a forced, polite one.

"It is... I will take care of it, do not let it worry you."

That was a terrible and misleading answer if he ever heard one.

"No," he said, reaching out to take her elbow, "what is it?"

Astoria dropped her head shamefully, and did not pull her arm from his gentle grip. "I promise I will tell you everything."

"Tell me." He said, his brow pulled together in worry.

"I will," she looked up at him with a plea in her eyes, "Fenris, I would never keep anything from you unless I had a good reason to."

"Are we in danger?"

Astoria took a step to him and gave him another smile, a gentle but still forced one. "Please."

"That's not good enough," he said with a frown.

"May I ask something, Fenris? I fear that you will... get angry with me, but I am wondering."

He drew away and dropped his hands which were now curled in fists at his side. With a scowl he nodded for her to continue.

"How..." Astoria began, but then shook her head, retracing her steps mentally. "No, it does not matter. Fenris, there have been a few who have questioned... your place here. These few have suggested that we turn you in... into the Tevinters -"

The betrayal hit him like a physical blow. Dread and rage flooded him. This was worse than what Varania had done to him. Varania hadn't built up his trust the way Astoria had. When he turned to her, he lit up his lyrium.

"What?" He trembled almost immediately, his voice as cold as ice as he towered over her. "How _dare_ you -"

"No – we are _not_ doing that, Fenris," she assured him, reaching out but not touching him, her eyes swimming with pain. "I would never turn you into them. Do not think for a moment that I would."

"Then what?" He growled, his heart hammering in his chest as his white hair clung to his forehead, the storm dripping on them.

"You need to come to Hasmal with me. Garsen and Eshan have promised that they will not turn you in, but it is not them I am worried about."

"Then who? The recruits? I could cut down all eighteen of them." Fenris glared bitterly at them, though none of them were paying him any mind.

"We cannot travel with them anymore. I will go to the ends of Thedas to keep you safe, Fenris – please, listen to me."

Fenris was scowling, and he had stopped in his tracks now as a clap of thunder ripped through the land. No one could hear their argument over the storm, and so he did not hold back on raising his voice.

"You've kept this from me," he accused, balling his fists tighter as he stepped towards her, and in a frustrated move, shook his fists at the sky. "When did you find out?"

"This morning," Astoria answered with a plea in her voice. "I wanted to get you away from the recruits before I told you – I don't want anyone to die over this."

She was expecting him to kill whoever had betrayed him, and she was right in fearing that. He wanted to. He had run for too long to only be handed back over to those bastards.

"Eshan doesn't want me going to Hasmal," he pointed out angrily, his voice like a dagger.

"He does now. We will go to Hasmal and away from those that wish us harm."

Fenris pointed at her, his lyrium still pulsing. "I shouldn't have come with you – I knew you would lead me into a trap."

Astoria was crying, but the rain dripped down her face, so he could not tell. "I would never do to you what Varania did – it crushes me that you think that I am capable of that." She stepped towards him defiantly, her tone hot. "No amount of money would ever make me turn you in. There is no price."

They had fallen behind the rebellion's caravan at this point, but neither of them cared. Fenris glowered, in his rage trying to find fault with her so that he could have vengeance.

"Who wants to turn me in?" He demanded, turning his gaze towards the rebellion ahead of them.

"I don't know. But Eshan has addressed it – he's not letting anyone turn on us."

Fenris' breathing was coming in ragged, the hot air around him heavy as the rain poured and a lightning bolt struck across the river.

"Why would they turn me in?"

Astoria shook her head, her brow furrowed as she placed her palms gently on his biceps. He shrugged away from her and she made a choked sound in her throat.

"They... they think that your bounty would do the rebellion good."

"And do you?" He hissed, struggling to decide if he would leave now or go with Astoria's plan.

"No, of course not," she said gently. "You may not believe me, Fenris, but the love we shared once was priceless, it overcame everything."

Fenris froze, imagining that he looked like he had when she had told him that she was his wife, the same expression he had gotten when Hadriana told him he had a sister. Not hesitating, Astoria put her palms up in surrender and continued, her voice cracking with unspeakable anguish.

"I know I am a stranger to you now, and you don't remember me, but _I_ remember _everything_. I remember gladly volunteering to take your punishment when they caught us sparring, a punishment you delivered," she explained to his horror. "I remember that if it weren't for you and your family, I would not have survived at Mavion's. I remember searching the streets of Minrathous for your mother, because she was so overwhelmed with grief that she could no longer remember where we lived. I remember consoling your sister and mother for countless nights even though_ I_ wanted to curl up and cry for days. And you still think I would turn you in for money? You think that I would have done any of that for coin?"

Fenris' anger, though he wished to hold onto it, was fast disappearing from his grasp. He opened his mouth to retort, but found himself unable.

"Please, Fenris, just tell me. How _low_ do you think of me? Do you see me on Varania's level – do you think I would sell you out when I have mourned your absence from my side for years? Could I sell you out when my son, the most important thing in the world to me, looks _exactly_ like you? When he _acts_ like you?"

Fenris' eyes widened, but he could still find no words. Everything she said dug at him deeper so that he could no longer be angry with her. He wanted to be angry desperately, to make her feel guilty for not telling him sooner, for allowing those who had suggested such a blasted thing to go unpunished. But everything she had just said weighed on him heavily, stunned him into a comatose state and he was numb to the world.

"Fenris," her voice was soft and gentle now as she stepped towards him, and placed her palms on his arms again. This time he did not shrug her off. "_No one_ is turning you in. Your bounty means nothing to me. I'll be damned if I ever step aside and let someone else turn on you."

In all actuality, Fenris didn't _truly_ think that Astoria was going to betray him. He was ashamed and disgusted with himself, however, that he had trusted her as much as he already did. It had truly snuck up on him, and that was alarming. A weakness. But it was a weakness he could no longer correct.

The rain dripped down Astoria's face, making her leather armor chafe on her shoulders and arms and her brown curls stick to her cheekbones and neck. Droplets clung to the ends of her lashes as she looked at Fenris. She took her hands off of him and sighed. "I never wanted to pull you away from your life, Fenris. If you stay I will do my best to make sure you go back to it, but if you leave now, I cannot blame you. I have _only ever_ wanted your happiness."

There was a hissing in the air before a blinding flash and a deafening clap of thunder, the sound booming as it rolled away from its epicenter. Fenris lowered his gaze from Astoria's, stunned from the things she had said. She raised her palm to his face and splayed her fingers across his cheek towards his ear. He snapped his gaze up to hers, utterly stunned by the touch.

"Fenris," she cooed gently and with sincere, painful honesty, "I mean you no harm."

The touch stilled him for a moment, her warm but wet palm on his cheek, her fingers stretching across his skin. It felt nice, and he was not used to such a thing, such a loving and gentle gesture. Fenris couldn't help it. He pressed his cheek into her palm and shut his eyes, trying to allow himself to enjoy the brief affection that was so dangerous but it felt so nice and unusual, but somehow familiar.

Astoria watched the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed, eyes shut.

"I know," he breathed, defeat clear in his voice.

Astoria was smiling slightly when he opened his eyes again, and she drew her hand away slowly. Another clap of thunder rang above them and someone was shouting.

"Astoria!" They both turned and saw Garsen waving them over. They had fallen a good deal behind the caravan, but Astoria waved at Garsen to leave them alone.

"We will catch up!" She shouted back, rolling her eyes. She gave Fenris a smile. "Fenris, talk to me. What are you thinking?"

He dropped his head, peering at her curiously from under his white hair. "We will leave them? Travel by ourselves again?"

"Yes, if you'd like. We can only join them sometimes – when we invade Valinius', for example. But we'll travel and stay by ourselves. Would you like that?"

"I would." He swallowed. "And you do not know who wants to turn me in?"

"No, I would have had words with them if I had. Garsen and Eshan have promised that no one will make an attempt at turning you in."

Frowning, Fenris gave a nod. "If you..." he shook his head as his expression darkened, "You cannot betray me like Varania. I... I do not want to kill you. But I will."

Astoria only nodded, her eyes sorrowful as she accepted the threat and did not call his bluff. "I will not. I will spend as long as it takes to prove to you that I am not as she was."

Fenris' gaze was pleading, as if his sanity rested on her actions. Varania's betrayal had weighed heavily on his mind that past year. He had had nightmares about her, not much different than the nightmares he had about Danarius and Hadriana. Knowing Astoria in the depth that he knew her now, he could not think about what a betrayal from her would do to him. Not when he had followed her so far, not when he had believed the things she said, when he put so much faith in her recollection of his own past. It would be like if Hawke had turned him over to Danarius – he had nightmares about that possibility as well.

But this was on an entirely different level. Hawke was a friend. Astoria was his _wife_. Something about that word was so strong and definite.

"Let us go," he said, his voice feeling dry in the static charged air. Astoria gave him a smile, a genuine smile.

"You are a good man, don't ever forget that."

He frowned and turned, falling into step behind Astoria as she continued after the caravan that was about a quarter mile now from them. There was another hissing, another blinding flash which sent Astoria bracing herself for an impact that never hit her, but rather a tree not far from them, and the thunder rolled away from its deafening clap.

"I don't think low of you," he muttered, but the roar of the storm drowned him out and Astoria did not hear him.

* * *

><p>"I wish you weren't doing this," Eshan said to Astoria on the ferry. She and Fenris sat on deck of the boat, leaning against the side of the boat as it rocked on the waters of the wide storm had passed, but the river was rushing by, swollen with the rains.<p>

"I'm sorry, Eshan."

"I understand. Your family has always taken precedence."

Fenris pushed his hair out of his eyes and rested his arms on his knees. He was still soaked from being rained on, but despite that, his spirits had lifted as soon as he stepped on the ferry with Astoria and Eshan. He was getting away from the rebellion, some of whom wished him harm.

Being around so many people had worn Fenris down. He was solitary and introverted, and preferred traveling with only Astoria to the other twenty elves he had traveled and lived with of late. Knowing that things would be quieter with just the two of them made him happier. He enjoyed their talks over their modest meals, their split night-watches where he could stare at the drawings in his own semi-meditative silence.

"They have." Astoria said with conviction, and Fenris found himself surprised that there was still a conversation happening.

"Fenris," Eshan said, "I'm sorry for what's happened."

"It is not your fault to apologize for," Fenris answered with a nod.

"They do not know the value of a life. But it is behind us, I hope." Eshan turned to Astoria. "If you both decide that you would rather fight in greater numbers, do not hesitate to join us."

"We will, we just will not be traveling with you," Astoria replied.

"I'm glad to hear it." Eshan sighed and glanced around the ferry. They were the only ones to had hired it across the water, save for a human family that kept to themselves on the other side of the boat. The crew worked to row them across the expanse of water towards Hasmal; an ancient city that looked like Kirkwall's Lowtown, a shadow of Tantervale to the east.

"I don't want to be forgotten when you go to kill slavers," Astoria said with a chuckle.

Eshan cast a nervous glance around. "You won't be."

Fenris couldn't help the corners of his lips twitching in a very slight grin. He liked Eshan much more than he had when he had met him. Eshan's life was dedicated to ending Tevinter's awful and oppressive regime, and Fenris found it hard not to respect someone who did such. Garsen had proved himself as well, taking charge after the attack in Tantervale's alienage.

The day had been emotional with Astoria, and Fenris was glad that they had resolved the issue at hand. He was glad that his fear of her betraying him was unfounded and that Astoria still seemed to be looking out for him. He hated the fact that the thought of her betrayal stung him so deeply. He hadn't wanted her to have that much of a hold on him.

Fenris didn't want to see Astoria as a lifeline in the way she had become. The things she did tell him about his past, the vanishing memories he had experienced only fueled him to want more answers. Astoria could grant them. He didn't want to see her as anything more than that.

He wanted to believe that was the only reason why he stayed, that he would learn so much more about himself and his past by staying with her, even as she led him to the gallows. Somewhere along the line he had grown to enjoy her being around, though he did his best to suppress this. He imagined that it was only the knowledge that he had been in love with her once before that acted as a somewhat self-fulfilling prophecy.

Fenris didn't exactly like being alone. He was man enough to admit that to himself. He had always wanted his family to be a part of his life – he just hadn't expected to have a wife and child as part of that family. He would have given Varania everything, a fact that shamed him to the core, but Varania was undeserving of any kindness he could muster. Astoria was deserving, however, and as much as Fenris wanted to survive, he wanted to hang onto the last remaining threads of his old life, his family.

He had always known this as his biggest weakness. It was where he was startlingly predictable, as Danarius had so cruelly pointed out a year before in The Hanged Man. He would always chase his past.

Finally it seemed like he would learn the answers he wanted. As the three of them dismounted the ferry in Hasmal and began through the darkening streets of the city, he wondered what kind of information about his markings he would learn. Hopefully Valinius, who had raided Danarius' mansion, would have all of Danarius' written research on Fenris' markings. Above all things, he wanted to learn if he could get his memories back.

He was exhausted by the time Astoria led him into a hole-in-the-wall tavern after saying good-bye to Eshan, who was continuing off to the Hasmal base. Astoria somehow talked the barkeep into a low price for a room, who shot suspicious glares at Fenris and asked her why she would share a room with "the likes of an elf." Astoria had emasculated the man in a way that had made Fenris chuckle to himself.

Despite the dinginess of the tavern, there were two men playing music near the dim firelight; one sliding a bow across a violin's strings, the other picking at an old Antivan guitar. The people in the tavern were older with a somber look about them. No one was dancing, no one laughing.

"I've always disliked Hasmal," Astoria explained as she closed her fingers around the iron key the barkeep had given her for the room. "So poor."

Fenris snorted.

"But the music is nice," Astoria said with a far-away tone. "Would you like to sit for a while and share some drinks?"

"There are few pleasures greater than drinking wine with a beautiful woman."

It was a long time coming, he figured. He should have told her that she had looked beautiful on his birthday, in that dress, but he hadn't and part of him felt rude for not mentioning it. He should have complimented her at some point, but he had never been able to bring himself to do it. The nicest thing he had said to her was when he had said that he believed she was a good mother.

He noticed her blush and beam a smile as she turned back to the barkeep and ordered a bottle of wine and two glasses. His lips curled faintly, proud of himself for his boldness.

He was still a man, a thought that he sometimes allowed despite his inner conflicts with developing any feelings for the woman.

He didn't know how to flirt, and he wasn't ready for anything more with her. But the day had shaken him. It was the kind of day where one needs to just get drunk and forget about it and laugh later because no one had been dignified and everyone had made a fool of themselves. Her hand on his cheek and the promising things she had said to him were memories that were not fading in the slightest, and he didn't want to remember how beautiful it had felt.

_ I will go to the ends of Thedas to keep you safe, Fenris._

He wondered if they shared the same weakness.

Fenris found an empty table in a dim corner where he could sit and lean back against the wall. It was the farthest from the music, which would be loud wherever they sat. His green gaze drifted from the dismal, older crowd to Astoria – the only beacon of youth and beauty in this dark establishment.

_ No amount of money would ever make me turn you in. There is no price._

Astoria made her way towards him holding a bottle of wine by the neck in one hand and two wineglasses in the other, a smile still on her face, where her cheeks remained flushed. She placed the bottle of wine on the table and sat down an arm's length away from Fenris.

"It's no Aggregio, my apologies," she said with a chuckle.

Fenris smirked at her as she poured the drinks. "I would be amazed if you could afford another bottle after my birthday. How _did_ you manage that, by the way?"

Astoria smiled deviously and pushed his glass towards him. "It... found its way into my arms."

"Oh?"

Astoria chuckled at a distant memory. "You were a bad influence back when we were young. Any wine that has... wandered from its home and to me has been the result of you teaching me."

"I taught you how to steal wine?" He asked, amused as he smelt the drink in his glass, absentmindedly swirling it.

She nodded and took a sip from her own glass. "You taught me how to steal. As I said, you were a demon back then."

Fenris chuckled and drank from his glass. On seeing his expression, Astoria laughed.

"Like I said, it's no Aggregio."

"It'll do," he managed. The music from near the fire transitioned into a soft song, the violin singing in the old tavern.

"Correct me if this is the wrong time to bring this up, Fenris," Astoria began carefully. Fenris felt his shoulders tense automatically, but he kept his expression composed. "But the other night... in Tantervale... you said that you wanted to know more about the drawings."

He held her gaze for a moment before giving a slight nod in acknowledgement. "Yes." He tugged his gauntlets off and put them on the bench beside him before opening up one of his pouches and pulling out the stack of vellum wrapped in the thin leather. He carefully untied the straps holding the leather around the vellum and glanced around.

This was not a threatening tavern in the least – as dark and somber as it was, no one in there looked capable of a fight. The crowd was older and seemed exhausted from either a hard day at work or just life in general. No one even looked their way where they sat in a dark and hidden corner. Even still, he felt uneasy about opening up the drawings in public.

He felt his ears turning pink as he unfolded the drawing on top – the risque one where he is rolling onto her with an arm snaked around her as he kissed her neck. He didn't want to talk about this one, he didn't feel that he knew her well enough. Fenris quickly folded that one back up and cleared his throat, moving onto another.

Luckily for him, the next drawing wasn't as embarrassing. It was the one where he was laying on his back with his head in Astoria's lap as she sat against a tree. Her fingers were running their way through his hair while her other palm lay flat against the center of his chest and a flower in her hair.

"This. It's so... idealistic." Fenris said, turning the drawing so that she could see, watching her expression like a hawk.

She nodded, as if wondering where he was going with this.

"Did this really happen?"

Again, she nodded. "Every drawing is of something that happened."

Fenris turned his gaze on the drawing again, thoughtfully looking it over. Astoria scooted closer to him and pointed to the tree.

"We would climb that tree sometimes, if we finished our work early. Your mother told me that when you were little you fell out of it and broke your arm."

Fenris arched an eyebrow. "Which one?"

Astoria laughed then and shrugged. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

The corners of his lips tugged in a slight smile as he turned his gaze back to the drawing. "I still... how were we allowed to... lounge around, like this?"

"Mavion was away a lot, and the guards didn't bother with us because we were young and we did our work."

He narrowed his gaze at the drawing. "I could never have done this at Danarius'."

Astoria took a long drink from her glass and sighed. "When that man showed up at my door... Maker's breath, Fenris, I couldn't believe him... He had the most eerie smile, the creepiest gaze I have ever seen."

She shivered and Fenris frowned. "What did he say to you? Was my mother still alive?"

"Yes, Sharna was still alive. Lysander was four years old." Astoria stared into her wine as she recalled the unpleasant memory. "At first, he wouldn't tell us who he was. He only said that we would be put to death for harboring you. He came in," she waved vaguely at the room, "and looked around. He took Varania's drawings, the ones he found, anyway. And just as he was getting ready to leave, Lysander came running in from playing in the fields."

She shuddered and Fenris narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to continue. "Fenris... I... when he saw Lysander, the smile that he had... I'll never forget it. I knew he was sinister, evil, vile. And then he told us that you had no memory of us – he said that if you ever were to meet us in the street, he could order you to kill us, and you wouldn't give it a second thought."

Fenris dipped his chin, slightly shamed. It was true - Danarius could have ordered him to kill them if ever they had come across each other, and he would have done so.

"We didn't believe him at first, but another year passed and you never came to us."

Fenris nodded, disgusted with everything – with what his family had been through, with Danarius' threat to kill them, with his own lack of memory. He was disgusted, knowing that his mother had died possibly thinking that he abandoned her. Bile rose in his throat.

"Was..." Fenris blinked, "was Sharna angry with me? I know in Varania's... half-letter to me, she said that she had been angry with me."

Astoria shook her head fervently, "No, no, no, Fenris – Sharna was never angry with you. Actually, she thought that if you had escaped and you remembered us still, that you did not come back to us in order to keep us safe."

"So why did Varania -?"

"Varania doesn't expect people to do the right thing, Fenris. She was selfish, and she had to be angry with someone, and she chose you."

Fenris scowled, but he was not angry by any means with Astoria. "If Varania was the one that letter mentioned, about Lysander... I'm going to kill her."

Astoria sucked in a breath beside him and placed a cautious hand on his arm, now free of his steel gauntlets. "Fenris..."

"You cannot possibly think to defend her." He tensed, but did not pull his arm away from her feather-light touch.

Astoria shut her eyes briefly, as if steeling herself against threatening tears. "No, I won't defend her. But... spare her, please. If ever we do see her. She is helping us, as much as I don't want it. If she has information on Lysander-"

"We will make her talk. But I cannot let it go."

"You will not feel better afterwards."

Scowling, he took another sip of his wine. Somewhere deep inside he knew that she was right. He hadn't felt better after killing Hadriana, or Danarius – only relief with the idea hat he wouldn't be chased anymore. The rage he felt was an ambitious hole to fill.

Fenris stared at her hand, cautiously placed on his arm. Such a foreign thing to him, a gesture of affection.

_ I mean you no harm._

"I know I would not feel better."

She curled her fingers around his skin and squeezed gently. "If it weren't for her, we would not know where to look. But it is of no matter tonight. Relax. We're back in the city, and the next stretch ahead of us..."

"The Silent Plains."

She nodded and shut her eyes to enjoy the music silently. Fenris had suspected they would disagree on this, but when the time would come, he knew he would kill Varania even if Astoria told him not to. She was a threat to his safety, though now without Danarius, he wasn't sure how much of a threat.

"Your hair has gotten long." Astoria teased, trying to lighten the mood as she traced circles on his skin with her index finger, distracting him.

Fenris glanced from her hand on his arm to her face. It was hard for him to concentrate with her touching him like that, her fingertip gently gliding over the trails of lyrium winding down his arm. Then she curled her fingers, letting her nails run gently over his skin. Fenris felt his eyelids fluttering shut, but he swallowed and steeled himself, disturbed that such a simple touch caused such a reaction.

"I don't trust myself to cut it usually."

"Allow me," she said with a soft smile. "I used to cut it anyway."

"You did?"

Astoria chuckled and withdrew her hand, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. "Yes. You nicked your ear once and we never let you try again."

Fenris smiled absentmindedly. He still had trouble imagining himself being careless enough to cut himself while trying to give himself a hair cut.

"Very well." Fenris said to her.

**I understand that Tevinter is a lot like the Roman Empire, and I watch Spartacus (which is about a slave rebellion at that time). I take a lot of inspiration from it, and try to make the rebellion as realistic as possible since I really don't know much about that time period. I think that with some people knowing how big Fenris' bounty is, they would want to turn him over in order to fund the rebellion.**

**Either way, I hope you liked it. I hope Fenris' is coming out of his vigilant/wary shell at the right pace. Thank you all for reading!**


	23. A Memory

**Thank you to Wicked Lullaby & Bear Mage for the reviews on the last couple chapters! =) **

"Hold still, Fenris."

He crossed his feet at the ankles, stretched out in front of the fire in their small room at the inn, swirling the wine absentmindedly in his glass. The heat from the fire seeped into him, drying away the weariness that traveling brought.

Astoria had dragged a chair over behind him, sitting with her legs crossed as she took out a small throwing knife.

"Ready?" She asked.

"Yes." Fenris leaned back, his shoulders touching her knees.

Astoria raked her fingers through his hair a few times before beginning. Her fingers gingerly threaded through his silky hair as she used her throwing knife to effortlessly cut the excess. She took special care to not touch his ears and neck, wondering what kind of reaction he would have if she did.

The feeling of her fingertips running along his scalp sent him into a trance-like state as he stared at the fire.

It was over too soon, but Fenris didn't say so as Astoria gave a pleased chuckle and he reached up to test her work. Fenris got to his feet and checked his reflection in his sword.

"Oh. That's... exactly how I wanted it. Thank you."

Astoria smiled and gathered up what she could of the hair that had fallen and tossed it into the fire. "You always liked it like that."

Fenris finished his wine where he stood, looking at the fire. The day had been long and exhausting, and it had tested both of their emotional limits. So Fenris wasn't surprised to see Astoria dozing in the chair after a few minutes, her wine at her side, unfinished.

Fenris quietly got out of his armor but stayed dressed in his tunic and leggings as he went back in front of the fireplace and let the heat dry him out.

He crawled into the bed later after tossing a blanket over Astoria in the chair and sleep overcame him quickly.

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><p>Astoria awoke to Fenris' groaning and fitful sleep. It was early morning, judging by the way the embers in the fire smoldered dully. On the bed across the room, Fenris lay on his side, muttering a string of disconnected sounds, his brow furrowed seriously. He jerked once, and then twice, lost in some kind of nightmare.<p>

Astoria silently rose from the chair and went to him cautiously. She knelt on the ground beside the bed and whispered.

"Fenris?"

He twitched and muttered something in Tevinter, which trailed off unfinished. Astoria reached out and slid her hand underneath his own, intertwining her fingers in his.

"Fenris?"

He squeezed her hand violently, his nails digging into her skin. Astoria hissed in a breath.

"Leto?" She tried.

Fenris' brow relaxed, as did his hand after a moment. "Leto?" She said again, soft as ever as he groaned something. Fenris went still, whatever was tense in his body relaxing as he slumped against the mattress. "Shh, it's alright, Leto." Astoria whispered gently.

He pulled her hand to rest in the center of his chest, holding it there. Then his brow furrowed again and his eyes fluttered open. He was sitting up in a second, releasing Astoria's hand immediately.

"Fenris?"

He looked frightened at first, registering the scene around him – Astoria kneeling on the ground, the fire smoldering across the small room.

"What are you doing?" He asked, suspicion clear in his tone.

"You were having a nightmare," she replied as a whisper. Fenris looked away, his green eyes searching for something.

"No, I wasn't. I... I don't know."

"What is it?"

"It... _was_ a nightmare," he began, looking at his hands the way he did when he struggled to find certain words, "and then it changed, to a dream. But it felt like a memory, a flashback, but... it's still there." He tapped a finger to his temple.

Astoria squirmed where she knelt, eager to hear more. Fenris cleared his throat, unsure.

"It was you – we were... somewhere, I don't know. I remember your face clearly, in my dream that is."

Astoria saw he was struggling, and stepped in. "I saw that you were having a nightmare, so I came over. I held your hand and I talked to you. I'm sorry."

He frowned. "So it wasn't a memory." He sucked in a breath. "Though it _was_. You looked younger."

"Well, the lighting is flattering in here, Fenris." Astoria chuckled, but he could see the clear _hope _in her eyes.

He shook his head. "It wasn't the lighting. The sun was out. We were under a... we were next to a wall, a stone wall."

Astoria's eyes widened as Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I can't remember much more. It was short."

Astoria sagged to the ground, her chin in her palm as she fell into her thoughts. "Well... we know that you _have_ your memories, they just aren't accessible as you'd like them to be. Dreaming... perhaps the veil between where you are and your memories is thinned when you sleep. My voice might have triggered something. I called you 'Leto' and only then did you seem to relax. Like part of you was remembering."

Fenris felt his heart hammering in his chest. "What does this mean?"

Astoria lifted her blue eyes to meet his gaze and gave him the slightest of shrugs. "I don't know, what do you... want to do with this?"

Fenris opened his mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. He felt that she was right. This felt too much like a memory – not a dream. It was more solid. He didn't find himself second-guessing its contents the way he usually did with dreams. There had been a clear break between the nightmare and the 'dream.'

_He had been leaning against a tall stone wall. He hear someone speaking in Arcanum not far off, cicadas buzzing in the trees. Opposite of him, Astoria was also leaning against the wall, facing him. Her face was younger, her cheeks fuller than they were now. They were holding hands, their gaze on each other's. He felt nervous, an anxiety that writhed in his stomach and made his breath feel short and uneven._

_ He noticed a black lock of his hair edging into his vision, but didn't think twice of it. He found himself staring at her in wonder. The way she was looking at him... it was soothing._

_ "Leto," she said, her voice younger, lighter, than he could recall, but it didn't sound strange to him. At the moment he hadn't even noticed the slight change in pitch._

_ She opened her mouth to say something, but it didn't match what he heard. They overlapped, one voice sounding confused. Then he heard the other voice, the one that didn't match with the woman in front of him. The same voice, but it didn't line up correctly. "Shhh, it's alright, Leto."_

_ Astoria didn't look like she had said it. She was smiling and blushing instead, as if he had told her something._

And then he had opened his eyes, and Astoria was not leaning against a wall with him, but rather kneeling on the ground. He was in Hasmal, in that dingy inn, with the embers in the fire burning low.

"Does it sound like a memory to you?" He asked, his voice sounding desperate.

Astoria nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it does. What else do you remember?"

"Cicadas... someone speaking in Arcanum. You were smiling, we were... holding hands." He felt awkward saying it. "Oh – my hair was black."

Astoria slumped against the bed-frame and rested her cheek against the corner of the mattress, shutting her eyes. Fenris watched her as she smiled – a smile that certainly _meant _something to her. "Yes, I think that is a memory. Not a dream. Were we speaking?"

"Yes. You said 'Leto,' and then you said something else, but I couldn't hear it. It wasn't what you said in the memory. It was like two of you, talking at once, though I could only see one of you. Confusing."

"Oh, Maker's breath, I'm sorry for that," she jested, but Fenris frowned disapprovingly. "Two of me sounds awful."

"This amuses you?"

Astoria sighed. "No, of course it doesn't. I was trying to pull you from the nightmare. I guess my voice... drifted into your dream, or memory. I'm... glad that you can still remember it."

Fenris dropped his head. It was a fleeting memory, but it was a memory no less, a memory he was still holding onto clearly, to his surprise. "What were we doing? Do you remember this as well?"

Astoria smiled. "I think I do. It could have been any number of times, we went to the wall a lot – it was somewhat hidden."

"Oh."

Astoria glanced at her hand, the skin broken in four small spots from him digging his nails into her skin, but they weren't bleeding. "What was your nightmare about?"

Fenris was looking at her hand as well, but he didn't seem to know what he had done. "It is nothing to burden you with."

Astoria gave a nod before going back to the chair. "Do you want me to... talk to you again, if you start dreaming? Maybe we can get another memory out of you?"

Fenris nodded, his throat feeling tight at all that this implied. He didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep, not that he had a memory now – just a short one, but still. It was so much better than nothing.

"You take the bed," he offered, stepping away from it as he fed the fire a couple logs.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he answered quickly. Astoria rose from the chair and took the bed, stretching out with a sigh. "There is room in here for another should you grow tired."

Fenris looked away, feeling his ears and cheeks burning with an unwanted blush. "I don't think I will sleep tonight," he replied huskily before dragging the chair closer to the fire and collapsing in it.

He could remember her – from before the competition, before even his oldest memories. He could _still_ remember it, the way everyone else could remember their own lives which lay behind them. Fenris was proud, relieved, anxious to have this memory, hoping that it would stay with him though the night, through the rest of his life.

The peace he felt at being able to replay those few seconds in his mind was astounding. It didn't slip from him, it didn't fade like the way the flashbacks had. He could recall the cicadas familiar to Tevinter, the familiar language that someone spoke nearby – though he hadn't known whose voice it belonged to. The way Astoria had been looking at him, the love in her eyes, it was almost overwhelming, almost frightening, but Fenris steeled himself.

He would not let this scare him. This is what he had always wanted – to remember. He felt an imaginary weight lift from his shoulders – relief swelling in him. It was only one memory – a pleasant memory, and it brought him hope above all else. If he could remember this fleeting moment, he could remember the rest, right?

He shifted his gaze to Astoria, who lay on the bed, her face buried in the pillow. Any suspicion he may have held towards her was gone now. He was sure that Astoria meant him no harm, that she had been 'in love' with him once, though he didn't know what that meant or implied.

Having someone from his past genuinely care for him... it felt wonderful. The peace it brought him seemed to fill him from the inside – it was better than anything he had ever felt. After Varania's betrayal, he hadn't imagined it possible. Astoria's presence in his life was reassuring, comforting- solidified by the newfound memory. He wondered what he would have done if he had remembered this before he met her. What would be different if she had showed up at his doorstep and he could pinpoint where he remembered her face from? Surely he wouldn't have been such an ass.

It embarrassed him, now looking back on it, how he had acted when he met her. He had been so wary of her, so suspicious and harsh, when all she ever was was kind. He felt his instinct, which warned him of being open and vulnerable, dying slowly – his walls tumbling down.

It was exhilarating and terrifying.

He was sure that he never would have gotten this memory if it weren't for him traveling with her. Part of him assumed it was her voice, speaking to him while he dreamed, that triggered the memory. He wanted to fall asleep again and have her talk to him, but he couldn't bring himself to ask for it so directly. Even if he did ask, he couldn't sleep, he was too excited to have this memory, finally in his grasp.

So instead, Fenris shut his eyes and settled in the chair, allowing himself to relive the short memory again and again. He tried not to wonder too much why this memory was the one to show itself – as common and uneventful as it seemed. He had expected to remember the emotional days first (if he had ever expected to remember anything). He had expected to remember the days that stood out – birthdays, his wedding, the competition. Perhaps he had remembered them the first time – in the Vimmark Mountains when he slept. Perhaps the eventful and unusual _had_ come to him first, only he had forgotten them as quickly as they had come.

He wondered if dreaming was the only way to get in touch with his memories. That would be fine with him. He'd have a thousand nightmares for one memory – good or bad, even if they were uneventful like the one he could now recall.

It felt like a piece of him had been put in place – the ever-expansive puzzle that was Fenris was giving a hint at sorting itself out. For the first time since he could remember, he was hopeful.

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><p><strong>Let me know what you guys think! It's kind of a quick chapter, but there will be more up very soon (as has been a strange habit of mine recently).<strong>


	24. The Silent Plains

**Thank you Bear Mage & Wicked Lullaby for the reviews, and thank you to everyone who's been reading/alerting/etc.**

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><p>They had both taken baths the next morning at separate times before going to the bazaar. The feeling of being clean was soon gone. Hasmal was dusty and warm, with harsh wind whipping through the city streets from the Silent Plains to the north.<p>

"I need to buy arrows," Astoria murmured, more to herself than anyone. "What do you need?" She asked, taking a mental inventory of his armor's condition.

"I don't think I need anything."

"It's two weeks to Perivantium if we're lucky, Fenris. And we'll be in Tevinter officially. After that, we need to start blending in."

He agreed to a black cloak that Astoria chose for him – not to wear then, but when they were in the Tevinter cities. It was hooded and could cover his markings and hair, and he could still move freely in it if needed. Astoria also bought him a scarf, which was a necessity in crossing the plains due to the frequent dust storms.

Afterwards they bought arrows and dried meats, fruits and nuts – which essentially would only last them a few days. They'd have to rely on Astoria's hunting for most of the journey, and that would be tricky in the Plains.

Astoria was a nightmare for merchants. She could talk a mabari off a meat cart if she wanted to, and often got a lower price for items than the merchants wanted to admit. She didn't flirt with them to get a lower price, though Fenris knew she could have. Instead, she took control and acted like a businesswoman, knocking down the prices before the merchants even realized what happened. It was truly a talent.

Not that she needed it. Fenris had money with him anyway – and plenty. Hawke had always been extremely generous with his companions. Fenris had enough money from the Deep Roads alone to last him a few more years at least, depending on how frugally he lived. This wasn't to mention the countless other errands he had run with Hawke.

Garsen met them at the inn that night. According to him, the rebellion had come over the river and were now staying at the Hasmal base. Unlike Tantervale's, this branch of the rebellion operated from an arms merchant's home, not an orphanage.

He explained to them that no one had the intentions of turning Fenris in anymore, but after careful consideration, Fenris and Astoria explained to Garsen that they were going to stay on their own, at least for the time being. Astoria was in such a rush to find out about Lysander, that she didn't feel like waiting around for the rebellion to gather their forces and head to Minrathous.

Fenris couldn't say that he felt differently. He just wanted to get on the road. He supported the rebellion, but he wasn't going to dedicate his life to it the way Eshan had. As far as he was concerned, some people_ let _themselves be oppressed.

But going to Minrathous caused him anxiety – not only because he'd be around magisters and slavers, but because he was going to meet Varania again, and hopefully meet his son. That opened up an entirely different set of questions. He wasn't ready to be a father, to be a husband even. It wasn't something he could imagine himself trying _and_ leaving, abandoning his own child – he would either be all in or all out from the beginning, and couldn't decide which road he would travel just yet.

Garsen had left them early, exhausted and bothered the way that people in charge always are. Fenris and Astoria sat, their shoulders nearly touching as they listened to the soft music playing in the inn and tried to develop a plan. All throughout the tavern sat men, looking somber and wary as they drank their tall mugs of ale and talked in hushed voices to each other.

"We can go ahead without the rebellion," Astoria began, swirling the wine at the bottom of her glass, "and go straight to Minrathous and look for Varania. We can't tear into Valinius' estate without the rebellion, so this way we can try to get Lysander while we're waiting to get Danarius' stolen research."

"But this is risky," Fenris acknowledged. "Just the two of us going into Minrathous?"

"I think we'll be less conspicuous than a massive group of elves. And we can get in touch with Hollan, he will be able to sneak us into the city. I'm sure of it."

"Oh?"

"We will have to go back to where I used to live, the barn, the house on the farm. It's been rebuilt, and the rebellion still uses it."

He nodded, his throat feeling tight the way it did whenever something sentimental came up in conversation. According to Astoria, his mother was buried somewhere near there. The right thing to do would be to visit her grave, he knew that. Now with the hope of him remembering again... he wanted to remember something of Sharna so that he could go to her grave and not feel "fake," mourning someone he couldn't remember.

"Then we will. And if Varania leads us to a trap?"

Astoria frowned, her blue eyes flitting to his. "I... I don't know. But she doesn't know for a fact that you're with me."

"I hope not."

Astoria squeezed his arm, a habit of hers it seemed, and took a long sip from her wine. Fenris was becoming accustomed to her touch slowly. Every time she reached for him surprised him less and less, and he wished he could go back to the previous day where she had her hand on his cheek. He hadn't known that a touch could be so soothing, so calm and gentle and kind.

For a moment they listened to the music in the inn, and Fenris felt Astoria watching him.

"Yes?" He asked huskily, only slightly irritated because feeling her gaze on him made him slightly uneasy – he always wondered if she was judging his markings.

"Your eyes... I'm glad that their color hasn't changed. Like your hair has. Not that it looks bad, it doesn't."

He snorted and looked away towards the two men playing the violin and guitar.

"Lysander's eyes are just like yours."

Fenris turned his gaze back to her, trying to watch any slight change in her expression. She looked back at her glass of wine, as if nervous under his stare. Her lips were pursed tightly and her eyebrows drawn together as if to keep from crying. He would have tried comforting her, but he didn't know how. No one had ever comforted him.

He was angry with Varania – not only for betraying him, but for having information on Lysander and never telling Astoria, whose entire life's purpose was for the child. How could his sister be so heartless as to continue to hurt those she was close to?

"Fenris," she began slowly as if she was trying to choose her words carefully, "how are you doing? Do you still remember... what you saw?"

"I do," he answered honestly with a a faint but proud smile. "It is great to have something to look back on, to be sure that it is a memory, not a fabrication or a dream."

"Perhaps there will be more."

"I can only hope. Though I am curious. Why... why did you call me Leto? When I was sleeping?"

Astoria thoughtfully gazed at her wine. "I... don't know. From what I believe... you, Fenris, see your life as a nightmare – or at least the past you can remember? Leto was not haunted the way you are, I wanted to... bring Leto back out, if that's possible. I – I don't mean to offend, I'm sorry."

"No, that sounds... you see much."

Astoria shrugged. "I like to think that I know you."

Fenris snorted in amusement. How badly he wanted to spar with her, for some reason. "I've never told you about my escape."

She arched an eyebrow. "You haven't."

So Fenris told her, leaving nothing out, about how Danarius had left him in Seheron and the Fog Warriors found him and nursed him back from the brink of death. He told her how Danarius showed up, months later, and ordered him to kill his friends. He had, and his expression darkened at the tale, but Astoria remained passive and neutral as she listened.

"Danarius was injured, and I ran. I couldn't look at them. I found a ship going to the mainland and boarded it, and have been on the run ever since."

She did not ask questions, and he assumed it was out of respect for his own privacy. He would tell her what he could when he could, and he was glad that she didn't prod him into giving more away than he was comfortable with.

A man with grime under his fingernails, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up on his arms, approached them. He looked like most of the men in the tavern – somber, weary, depressed, a man who worked in the mines. Fenris tensed as the man stopped and gave a smile to Astoria.

"Good evenin' to you, lass. Care for a dance, if your friend doesn't mind, that is?"

He sounded harmless enough, but Fenris frowned and Astoria shook her head.

"Thank you, Ser, but I'm not one for dancing tonight."

"Of course," he said with a nod, "Another night, perhaps." And he walked off.

Astoria sighed and gave Fenris an embarrassed smile.

"I am not stopping you," he said.

"Thank you, but I can't think of dancing right now."

"Why is that?"

She rubbed her temples and dipped her head. "I'm just tired. The years go by quickly and they are unkind."

It was the truest statement he had ever heard. He answered by intertwining his fingers in her own, resting their hands between them as they continued to drink. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Maker's breath... that is an ugly bruise." Astoria ran her fingertips along Fenris' ribcage gently, ghosting the skin. The black, blue, yellow, even green bruise had spread to be about the size of her hand, fingers included. "Oh, dear, Fenris. How has it felt?"<p>

"It hurts, but there is nothing to do about broken ribs." He sighed as the wind swept across the land to greet them.

They had set out from Hasmal the day before, and were finally at the edge of The Silent Plains – a vastly uninhabited expanse of dry prairies. It was a breeding ground for dust storms, thunderstorms and sometimes herds of a strange antelope.

They would be safe out here until reaching the next city, which was still almost a two-weeks journey away. There were no villages between Hasmal and Perivantium – only a vast, flat, mostly dead land with sparse lakes and tiny creeks that tumbled through odd breaks in the earth. If it was not raining or dusting in The Silent Plains, the sun was hot and dry.

Fenris' lips were cracked already, and he remembered again why he hated traveling in the wild. Though his skin was a few shades darker than Astoria's, he still felt a slight burn on his nose and shoulders. He had taken some of his armor off to combat the heat, but wrapped the scarf around some of his face so he could breathe without inhaling the dust that blew across the prairie.

The moonlight cast a pale glow on the plains around them – enormous and flat and void of life except for an owl in the distance and a small pack of coyotes a mile off, yipping and cackling like hyenas as they chased some unknown prey down.

Fenris flinched as Astoria put a slight pressure on one of his broken ribs. "_Venhedis, fasta vaas_."

"Relax, Fenris, I'm only making sure it's healing correctly."

He dropped his head to the ground and looked at the fire, which burned only from brush they had found during the day. Their firelight could be seen by anyone for miles, but Fenris was confident there was no one near.

"And is it?"

"It appears it is," she said confidently. "You should be able to spar with me in about a month."

"A month?" It was a long time to be injured.

"If you take it easy."

"I suppose I shouldn't tell you that I will doing some traveling." Fenris jested with a smirk.

She chuckled and pulled his tunic back down to cover up his wound. At this point it had healed enough where it didn't bleed throughout the day, but the bones were still at their worst. Fenris sat up with a quiet groan and Astoria settled a few feet away.

"I'm curious," Fenris said after a few moments. "Why do you think _that _memory came to me? Out of all of them? I surely have more... emotional memories."

"What do you mean?" Astoria tilted her head at him curiously as she plucked a dandelion from the grass in front of her and twirled it in her fingers.

"Nothing seemed eventful about it. Why would I remember that and not... the competition, a birthday even? I don't understand. Don't you remember the unusual the most clearly?"

Astoria smirked, but he realized that she was trying to conceal as she turned her gaze to the fire.

"What is it?" He demanded with a frown.

Astoria ducked her head and scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, a blush on her face. "That memory... it's when you asked me to marry you, Fenris."

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><p><strong>Another short and sweet one. But brace yourselves, things will be turning dark soon. Next update will be up by Thursday, I believe.<strong>


	25. Admission

**Thank you to Bear Mage, Kira Tamarion, Fallon Idalia and Wicked Lullaby - you guys are the best!**

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><p>The pack of coyotes in the distance was settling, a thick twig snapping in the fire. Animalistic, pale eyes sought out Fenris from the dark as he swallowed audibly, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Astoria gave him the moment to process this as she stared at the dandelion in her hands, the stem now crushed between her fingertips.<p>

Fenris opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't. Not at first.

That was why he had felt nervous in the memory. That's why that memory came to him – it had been a monumental moment in his previous life.

It all felt suddenly... real to him. As if without the memory, it had never happened, and with the memory it did.

Astoria chuckled to herself, to Fenris' shock. She shook her head, recalling the memory that they now both shared.

"You said that you had gotten so nervous, you had forgotten to kneel." Astoria smiled at the dandelion and plucked one of its tufts. "I didn't care, of course. I didn't even notice."

Fenris was absolutely still, watching her while he wondered if he was having heart palpitations.

"You said it... it could have been 'any number of times,'" Fenris recalled curiously. "What did that mean?"

Astoria sighed. "We'd always go to the wall during the day to talk, if we could make it there."

"And I proposed to you there more than once?"

Astoria chuckled and glanced at him, but she was blushing and couldn't hold his gaze. "You were always talking about marriage. But we were very young, and I never thought you were serious, until you took me to the wall and proposed then, officially, I suppose."

Fenris blinked. "And when was this?" He hated having to ask such questions – it was something he _should_ have known off the top of his head.

"Before you knew about the competition, but not much before. Once you did volunteer for it, you tried to go back on the engagement, to say that we couldn't get married. You thought you were going to die in the competition, you see. You didn't want me to be a 'widow,' you didn't want to ruin my chances of me getting married later. A load of shit, if I've ever heard it." She snickered to herself.

He couldn't move, couldn't breathe if he wanted to. It was like watching a freak accident. Part of him didn't want her to continue, but he had to know, had to listen.

Astoria continued slowly, a smile on her face as she shook her head, "But I told you I didn't care, you were the only one for me – in life or death. We got married a month before you left."

Fenris stared at her, questions racing through his mind, but he couldn't pick just one to ask. How strong had their bond been, then, if she had still wanted to marry him with only a month of being together left? Even as he imagined a more carefree version of himself, like he had recently, he couldn't believe that he would bring up the topic of marriage as if it were no big deal, or to propose to someone.

Why had she let him marry her? That was at the forefront of his mind. If they only had a month left together – to be separated through death or victory, and in turn, freedom – why had Astoria essentially ruined her chances of ever marrying someone else (someone who could provide and be there). Of course, she could have always lied about being married, but Fenris knew that Astoria was not the lying type.

He swallowed again, nervously. He opened his mouth again to speak, but couldn't. Astoria looked sidelong at him and shook her head again.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, I shouldn't – I shouldn't tell you that. It's wrong of me."

He leaned forward, confused. "Why?"

She sighed. "I know you're not the same as you were. I can't... say something, and have you immediately love me again. It isn't fair to you."

Fenris nearly choked on his own breath. This was the most forward she had ever been with him. Did she _want_ him to love her? he wondered. After nine years surely she had moved on, he had been almost positive of that until now.

He hadn't considered it before – where her feelings might stand with him. He had overlooked how emotional this must be for her – to have lost a loved one, find them again and have them be a different person, essentially. How difficult it must be for her to look him in the eye and not share any intimacy.

"What... what do you want from me?" He asked, his voice low but not at all harsh. Some part of him was pleading to learn what the next step was. He wanted to be dutiful, a good man – something he didn't know _how_ to be. He needed guidance.

Astoria smiled at him but her eyes were welled up with threatening tears. "Just be yourself, Fenris."

"I don't know who I am anymore," he admitted slowly, sounding frustrated. Bitterly, he added, "I can't even recall a time when I knew who I was."

Astoria looked away sadly. "Well... if you want to know more, I hope you know that you can ask me anything."

He did want to ask her something. He had hundreds of questions – but he couldn't bring himself to ask them. Astoria looked like she was in pain where she sat, gazing longingly at the fire as if she needed the light in all the darkness around them. It seemed like if she said anything more she'd crack and fall to tears.

Fenris couldn't do it.

And then it hit him, so hard and startlingly obvious that he couldn't imagine why he hadn't seen it before.

He had feelings for her.

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><p><strong>I know it's short - I'm sorry! I couldn't include the next part because it's sooo long, but I will make it a new chapter soon (probably today since I have nothing to do for two hours).<strong>


	26. Torment

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading. This is a super long chapter, but I think it will be enjoyed. It was a rollercoaster to write. This chapter is definitely M.**

**Thank you Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Fallon Idalia & Kira Tamarion for your support and reviews! =)**

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><p>Fenris sat with his scarf wrapped around most of his face, only his eyes peering out at the plains before him. Astoria was half a mile ahead, crawling on her stomach, inching slowly towards some kind of large rodent. She had told him to wait, which was boring but he didn't mind too much. He had a knack for scaring off game, and he was hungry so he wouldn't complain. Besides, he could see for miles in each direction, and knew that their safety was not threatened.<p>

He watched as Astoria pulled herself into a ball and raised her bow achingly slow, an arrow straining the string on the weapon. The unsuspecting creature, a mere blot of brown in his vision, slumped to the ground as the arrow stuck it.

Astoria got to her feet victoriously, practically running to the rodent before scooping it up and making her way back towards him. Fenris stood with a grin on his face and made his way down the gentle slope of the plain towards her. He had a bundle of dried roots and branches from brush for a fire tucked under one of his arms.

Threatening clouds hovered to the west, a few hours away. They were enormous and nearly black, casting wide shadows on the dusty plains. They were going to get hit with a bad thunderstorm, and Fenris wished there was sufficient shelter – but alas, only flat or gently sloping, dried grass and bushes stretched for miles upon miles.

It took them five minutes to reach each other, and when they did, Astoria smiled warmly at him and held out the rodent to trade him for the roots to burn.

As he prepared the dinner, Astoria got the fire going and cast a wary glance to the west.

"That doesn't look good."

Fenris nodded as he dropped the fur to the ground beside him. "There's nowhere to go."

"We could use a little rain," she said. "I'd like to wash the dust off my skin."

Fenris smirked where he sat. She had a clear line, like a tan line, that stretched horizontally across her face from where she had worn her own similar scarf to keep from inhaling the dust. If anything, the dirt on her face only made the light blue of eyes stand out more.

Part of him hated how he was attracted to her. He hadn't meant for it to happen. She had been beautiful since she showed up at his doorstep, but he saw a lot of beautiful people. It wasn't anything unusual.

But Astoria was unusual. She was his lifeline to his previous life, and since Hasmal, he felt that she would be the only way for him to get his memories back.

He could still remember that one memory – where he supposedly proposed to her. He relished in it before he slept and whenever he had a free moment to just think, which was often.

He considered asking her to start calling him "Leto." He thought that her saying it while he slept had triggered his memory, and maybe it had. Perhaps if she continued to call him "Leto," he would start remembering more. But he wasn't Leto, "he who is always happy," anymore.

Maker's breath, that one memory was the most bittersweet tease of his life. It made him want the rest desperately, made him hope for more. And hope was such a dangerous thing. It set one up for disaster. He had hoped that Varania was something she wasn't – and having built up that hope had only led him to disappointment.

A dull grumble of thunder reached their ears, far away, but closer than he had apparently originally thought. Astoria and Fenris shared a glance. She sighed and pulled out one of her daggers, playing with it absentmindedly as she rolled it over her knuckles precariously.

Fenris finished preparing the dinner and propped it up over the fire before settling back down on the dry ground.

Another roll of thunder sounded.

"You never said that Eshan was one of the elves that you stole from when you were pregnant," Fenris said with a questioning eye.

"You didn't know him yet. I believe we were in Wildervale."

Fenris shrugged.

"Besides," Astoria continued, "I didn't think you liked him anyway."

Fenris smirked and leaned back on his palms. "I respect him. He dedicates his life to a noble cause. And he saved your life, and Lysander's. And I suppose in doing so, also saved Varania and my mother."

Astoria frowned at the fire. "You give me too much credit."

"Do I?"

She considered, thoughtfully gazing at the fire as the dagger spun over her knuckles and back into her palm dexterously. "I think Varania would have managed."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she would have left our mother in a ditch if someone offered her the coin."

Astoria seemed surprised, but spoke softly. "She wouldn't do that, Fenris."

He sighed. "I suppose I don't know her very well."

Another roll of thunder. The plains were empty, and indeed, silent as the remaining animals dug themselves into their burrows and ran away. The storm was going to hit them hard.

"You loved her once." Astoria said quietly, almost dreamily. "You protected her, from everything."

His lips curled in a slight scowl even though she couldn't see through his black scarf. The air was still, so he pulled his scarf down below his chin and leaned forward, turning the meal over as the flames licked at it.

"I was so proud when I heard that she was a tailor. A lie, of course."

Astoria furrowed her brow. "A tailor?"

"Yes."

Astoria nodded. Another boom of thunder, so quiet and far. Fenris swallowed and glanced at her. "You said that my mother... was distraught... when you three lived together."

She shifted where she sat, putting the dagger slowly on the ground, the question seeming to cause her pain. "Sharna would just... become unresponsive. She wouldn't eat or sleep. She'd cry for... days, sometimes." Astoria's own eyes were brimmed with tears. "But the wandering... it was the worst. I'd wake up in a cold sweat some nights, realize she wouldn't be there, and Varania and I would have to comb Minrathous, looking for her."

Fenris' heart felt heavy, his chest tight, his windpipe feeling narrow. Another roll of thunder.

"She had lost it, you know? The grief... it was too much for her to handle. My own mother didn't love me as much as Sharna loved you. It was a beautiful thing, before."

Fenris cleared his throat. "Did she ever... improve?"

Astoria nodded, her blue eyes dazzling in the firelight. "When Lysander was born. She seemed to... switch. It was amazing. She got that fire in her eyes again, she stopped wandering, stopped drifting, stopped... deteriorating. From what I understand, it felt as if she had you back. When he was born he had black hair, your green eyes..."

And then the tears spilled down her cheeks and Astoria bowed forward, curling in on herself as she cried. Fenris was still for a moment, awkwardly wondering what he should do. He glanced at the storm, at dinner cooking on the fire, at Astoria sobbing into her hands.

If he didn't owe it to her, he owed it to his mother – to take care of the woman who took care of his own mother and sister. If Sharna had truly been that difficult to care of – sneaking away and wandering the streets of a city where she could have been resold into slavery at any moment – then he was thankful beyond belief at Astoria's dedication and love for his family.

Fenris went to her, sitting on his ankles with his knees in the dirt before tentatively pulling her against him by her shoulders. She was warm as she trembled into his chest, not daring to wrap her arms around him.

Fenris dipped his chin and let himself smell the last traces of lavender in her hair, which was now overpowered by the earthy smell of the Plains. Another rolling of the thunder drew his gaze to the storm. They had half an hour at best before it would start to rain.

Holding her was the most he could bring himself to do. He could do little more. He couldn't lie to her and tell her that it would be alright, that they would get Lysander back. He doubted that the child was even still alive. So Fenris sat with her, hugging her to him and saying nothing because he could not imagine how words would help her.

He dropped his cheek to the top of her head, inhaling the traces of lavender and -

_"Now, Leto, I understand that you have been trained in the art of fighting," spoke a man in deep blue robes behind an intricately carved mahogany desk. Ancient texts lined the shelves behind him. A beautiful staff leaned against the desk, gems encrusted in its wood. The magister, a tan man with dark eyes, sighed and rose from his chair._

_ Leto stood, absolutely still with his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowed slightly. Panic. Astoria. Fear. Anxiety. Astoria. Sorrow. Worry. Astoria. Would she be alright? They won't let her be free anymore – will they?_

_ "But there is a reason I do not train the others. Do you know why that is?"_

_ Leto spoke and for some reason he found himself surprised at the sound of his own voice. "Yes, Master."_

_ "Why should I not train everyone to fight?" His voice was tired as he stood in front of Leto and looked at him seriously. The sound of armor shifting behind Leto grabbed his attention for only a brief moment._

_ "You should not train us all to fight because we do not need to know. We are merely slaves, not warriors, Master."_

_ The magister chuckled. "Oh, you are good at that. You could be a politician. A shame you have no magical ability, you could be like me someday." The magister frowned and steepled his fingers, his thumbs on his chin. "Tell me, Leto, am I good to you and the others?"_

_ "You are kinder than we deserve, Master." Leto struggled to keep his voice level._

_ The magister laughed. "I am. I let you survive when you killed one of my guards, did I not?"_

_ "I am forever in your debt, Master."_

_ The magister smiled. "Oh, you are so obedient. I am sure you will be missed. But listen, Leto, you have been training that girl to fight. And I hear that you are... involved. I can surely not let this go unpunished, can I? I ordered that she remained unspoiled."_

_ He felt his throat closing in as he struggled to answer. Involved felt so superficial. Leto wanted to correct him. They were more than involved, they were married, he wanted to say._

_ The magister spoke first with a wicked grin. "So I have a proposition. You can choose that girls' fate. I will not kill her just yet because... well, I'm sure you would fail the competition just to spite me. You'd make me lose out on the prize and two young, strong slaves. So I will let you choose what I see is a kinder fate."_

_ He heard himself swallow at the mention of her. Panic surged through him._

_ "Would you like to choose for her?"_

_ "What are the options, Master?"_

_ The magister narrowed his eyes in thought. "First, you may keep her here. You would not have her freed should you win the competition. She would remain a slave while your family walks. Or... you will deliver another punishment."_

_ Leto grew dizzy, sorrow and panic overwhelming him._

_ "Sixty lashings – she would take your own punishment for you on top of her own. She would receive twenty lashings for you for 'spoiling' her, another twenty for teaching her how to fight, and she would receive twenty for the same. I cannot have you going into the competition with open wounds on your back, so she will have to carry that burden. Of course, you would give them to her. If I do not think they are strong enough, if you are being gentle with her, I will add more."_

_ Nothing could compare to the dismay, the anger, the grief and torment he felt. He would kill the magister for this. This was beyond cruel. He had seen slaves go into shock from less lashings than that._

_ "Now... Leto. What will she have? Will you condemn your darling girl to a lifetime of servitude, or will you make her bleed?"_

_ Leto's knees gave out and he hit the stone floor. The magister was laughing - no, cackling. Leto knew what Astoria would ask for, as much as it would kill him to do so._

_ "I am good to you, but I will not be undermined."_

_ Leto was vaguely aware of the guards behind him dragging him to his feet. The magister strode around his desk and wrapped his fingers around the staff. "Your choice?"_

_ Leto's fists were clenched as the guards dropped his arms. He wanted to reach across the desk and murder the magister. If he misbehaved, they wouldn't let him into the competition. And then Astoria, Varania and Sharna wouldn't be freed. He had to choose, there was no way to refuse._

_ "I choose the second," he managed, his voice hoarse and weak. A heavy, imaginary guillotine closed in on him._

_ The magister gave a solemn nod. "A shame. The girl will be such a pretty thing when she's older, spoiled or no."_

_ Rage. Horror. Disgust. Fury._

_ The magister reached on the desk, his fingers stretching towards a leather whip with tiny steel hooks at the end of its frayed cord. Leto winced. He remembered how much that weapon bit. The magister picked the whip up slowly and turned it over in his steady hands, appraising it._

_ "This is your fault, Leto. Do not blame me."_

_ The magister held the whip out to him. He stood still for a moment, panicked and filled to the brim with dread. She would hate him, he thought. She would never forgive him._

_ Leto thought he was going to vomit, his stomach churned precariously as his fingers closed around the handle of the whip – a sturdy and terrifying thing. The cord unfurled, its frayed end splayed out on the floor._

_ With dread forcing his breath to come in short drags, Leto gathered the cord of the whip into a loop._

_ The magister went to the door. The guards shoved Leto, but his legs were stiff. A guard growled and he followed the magister, wishing he could be struck dead, his feet feeling unbearably heavy._

_ But if he forced a fight with the guards now, the three people he cared about wouldn't be freed._

_ He followed the magister, each second feeling like a sword twisting in his heart. And then he was in the courtyard, too soon, and Astoria stood between three guards, waiting for the word. Her blue eyes met his and he felt dizzy, wishing more than anything that he could drop the whip at his side._

_ She was trembling in fear, and something primal and protective in Leto made him grit his teeth. It had been a long time since she had been whipped, he had made sure of it. He had protected her to the best of his abilities, the same thing he did for Varania and Sharna._

_ He had never felt so low. The way her eyes widened as the realization swept over her – she hadn't known that this would be her punishment._

_ The magister nodded once towards the guards who were with Astoria. They grabbed at her harshly and she cried out, and Leto wished he was dead. He would never get past this, he would never forgive himself._

_ The guards bound her wrists around a steel pole and forced her to her knees. She was crying as she bowed her head against the pole. The guards gave her space, stepping back and looking at Leto almost solemnly. At least they understood, some of them were halfway kind._

_ "Where are the rest of them?" The magister asked. "Get all the slaves out here. Let them see what I am not afraid to do."_

_ The slaves that were there ran away with their heads down to get the others from around the estate. Leto felt bile rising in his throat as his stomach dropped. His mother and sister would witness this horrible thing he had to do to a girl that not only they loved, but he did._

_ But they will be free in three weeks if he wins, he had thought. That is all that matters._

_ He wanted more than anything to apologize to her, to comfort her, to drop the whip and murder the magister, to take her and his family away forever. He wanted this to not happen, more than he had ever wanted anything._

_ He heard a choked sob from his right, and he shifted his anguished gaze. His breath caught at the sight of Sharna, her elven eyes brimming with unshed tears as she stood in the ranks of the other elves; with their bowed heads and submissive demeanor._

_ "Leto," she mouthed to him, as if begging him. Her copper hair was tied back, her green eyes on him. Varania appeared at her side, fearfully looking at him, in a light that she had never seen him before._

_ I am so sorry, sister, Leto thought. She was too naïve to see this. She would see him as a monster._

_ The magister stepped forward. "I see myself as a reasonable man. You all live in better conditions than those serving other magisters. I let you have your families, your traditions. I even let the occasional theft pass – a bottle of wine here," the magister sent a knowing glance to Leto, "a loaf of bread there. I am kind, but I am not stupid. If any of you are ever caught training again, you will wish that you were treated as kindly as these two."_

_ Fenris shut his eyes. It took all of his control not to go after the magister and murder him. He never could, of course._

_ "Leto," said that terrifyingly level voice, "Sixty lashes. You will not be doing her a kindness if you are gentle. Begin."_

_ The magister took several steps back and leaned against his staff to watch the show. The elves watching were somber, two of them in particular were distraught. Leto couldn't look at them, shame burning him._

_ Astoria was shivering at the pole, and she whimpered frantically as a guard ripped her tunic down the back, pulling it apart to reveal the bare skin. She trembled, her fingers curling into her palms as she leaned against the pole, waiting._

_ Leto dropped his head, shamed and fuming. He was desperately wishing that this wasn't real. He chanted a prayer in his head to a Maker he didn't believe in, begging for divine intervention. A lightning bolt striking the magister would be perfect._

_ "Well?" The magister asked, his tone icy – a warning._

_ Leto couldn't respond. He swallowed and slowly let the whip's cord unfurl from the grasp of his fingers. He despised the sound it made as its end hit the ground, sounding so alarmingly heavy and vile. He drew his arm back, praying that he would be forgiven, that Astoria knew he didn't want this._

_ The whip cracked sickeningly, and Astoria cried out. Blood began dripping down her shoulder where it had cut her and ripped the skin with it. Leto shut his eyes and collapsed to his knees, dropping his head in his free hand. He couldn't do this. It would kill him._

_ "Leto, stand."_

_ He felt heavy gauntlets bringing him back to his feet._

_ "I'm adding five lashes. Every time you hesitate," the magister was losing his patience, his temper flaring, "every time you are gentle, I will add another five!"_

_ He felt the magister's palm strike his cheek. The magister wouldn't use magic against him to hurt him – not with the competition so close._

_ He let his gaze shift over the slaves – Sharna and Varania both with tears in their eyes, looking horrified. Nothing would ever compare with this, he thought. Nothing could ever be so horrible. Leto dropped his head and drew his arm back, utterly destroyed._

The force of the memory made Fenris' shoulders heave as bile seemed to fill his throat. He felt like he was being pulled inside out. He shoved Astoria out of his arms and retched what little he had in his stomach, where he was on his hands and knees. Asoria's palm was on his back in a moment while she whispered soothing things to him.

"Fenris? It's alright. Fenris?"

A roll of thunder.

How long had it been?

Fenris coughed and spit at the ground before turning to Astoria. Horror seized him. He needed to confirm the memory. He hoped it hadn't happened, that it was a fabrication. He couldn't have actually done that, could he? The magister, who must be Mavion, couldn't have been that cruel.

Fenris wrapped one arm around the front of her chest, gripping her shoulder as he pulled her to him. She yelped as her shoulder hit the center of his chest, her hands going to his arm to pull it off of her. With his free hand, he fumbled with the back of her armor and tunic, working to reveal her skin He had to see, to confirm that it had or had not happened – that the memory was just a nightmare that flared into his consciousness.

"Fenris!" She gasped, her hands grappling at his arm that pinned her to him. "Fenris, what are you-"

He yanked the bottom of her tunic up to reveal the center of her back. He cursed as his eyes took in the sight – thin white scars were visible, faded, all across her skin. They told the familiar story of past abuse – numerous and spread out. These wounds he recognized, he had the faintest scars of his own that were identical.

Dread filled him. Fenris felt the edges of his vision blur as Astoria went still against him and he splayed his fingers, flattening his palm against the center of her spine. He tried to breathe steadily as the horror of what he had done, the pain he had felt in the memory, washed over him.

"I..." he began to choke out, "I did this to you." He stared at his hand on her spine. "How can you stand to look at me?"

Astoria made a choked sound in her throat. "You... you remember?"

Fenris bowed his head and shut his eyes, ashamed with himself. Destroyed.

He had thought he would want all of his memories – the good and the bad. But this one was so disturbing, he couldn't decide at first if he was glad that he had it. It didn't fade. Instead, it flared so startlingly clear in his mind – he could remember the details – like Astoria's bone-chilling cry, the tears in Sharna's eyes, the feel of the whip in his grasp, the sting of the magister's palm on his cheek. The awful feeling in the pit of his stomach stood out above all others – how much he dreaded having to commit this, how he had wished above all else that he hadn't had to.

"I remember."

Astoria pulled away from his arms, and he let his hand drop slowly from her spine. He was pale with horror, with shock and disgust.

"How can you not.. hate me?" He asked.

Astoria swallowed and moved to the fire, turning their meal over the flames. "You don't see why Mavion did that?"

"Because he was cruel – as any magister is."

Astoria shook her head. "He did you a favor, Fenris."

"What?" Fenris demanded, immediately appalled that she would say such an awful thing. "How can you say that?"

Astoria furrowed her brow. "Mavion _wanted _you to win, Fenris. He wanted you to _want _to get us out of there. If he had been kind those past several weeks, you wouldn't have been so determined to free us. You may have lost."

Fenris scowled, angrily gripping his knees in disgust. Astoria sighed.

"How much do you remember?"

He stood up abruptly, too irritated to sit still. He began to pace as Astoria turned the rodent over above the fire and the storm rolled in, slowly growing louder.

"I remember being spoken to by a magister – Mavion, I imagine," he said but didn't see her answering nod, "and he told me that I had to choose. I could give up your freedom or... punish... you." Fenris turned his head away in shame. "I remember following him out to the courtyard and then beginning – in front of everyone, even... was that my mother?"

"She was there," Astoria answered, discomfort clear in her voice.

"She was crying. And you – we were married then?"

"Yes."

Fenris paused and dropped his gaze to the ground before him. His mother and sister had watched him commit that horrible act against his wife – a woman that apparently they both loved dearly. He felt cruel, even as Astoria stood and went to him, her palm pressing against the bare skin on his arm.

"Fenris... no one ever blamed you for it. It wasn't your fault."

He scowled at her. "I shouldn't have taught you to fight!"

Astoria shook her head in disagreement. "I'd be dead by now if you hadn't. Fenris – someone was going to give me that punishment – it doesn't matter to me that it was you. I know you didn't want to, I know you couldn't do anything about it."

Fenris held his hands out before him, examining them. They had done so much evil, so many horrific things. "I do not want this memory." His voice had dropped from one filled with rage to one brimming with sorrow.

Astoria's brow pulled together in worry. "It is not one I would have wanted you to remember. Not all of our days were like that."

Fenris remembered the fever of emotions he had felt within the memory – rapt and primal _need_ to protect, to comfort, to apologize to her. He remembered thinking that whipping Astoria would _kill_ him, that he wanted to be struck dead knowing that he would have to inflict such pain.

Looking at Astoria now, he felt an unspeakable anguish in him; a hurricane of sorrow that made him bow his head and shut his eyes. He vaguely felt her palms on his neck, soft and gentle with her fingernails grazing through his hair.

"Fenris -"

"Why did I kill a guard?" He uttered.

Astoria was silent at first, and did not speak until Fenris opened his eyes to see her staring awkwardly at his armor, avoiding his gaze. "He had... tried to force himself on your sister."

Fenris growled in his throat at the mention of her. "And that never happened to you?"

Astoria looked confused before speaking. Fenris felt his throat tighten at the shame in her voice. "Mavion wanted me 'unspoiled,' he had said. Of course, that didn't work out in his favor with you around." A devious grin spread across her face.

Fenris nodded, not seeing the humor but rather feeling numb to the world. He lifted his hands to his own neck, resting his palms against the outside of her knuckles. He shut his eyes and relished the warm feeling, the gentle touch of her. He curled his long fingers around her hands, his fingertips pressed against her palms.

He held her gaze and spoke quietly, "You are kind to me."

Astoria smiled, her tears gone. "Does that surprise you?"

Fenris blinked as if that was an absurd question. "Yes. I am unaccustomed to... affection."

She frowned and another threatening roll of thunder reached them.

"I did love you," Fenris said quietly, "in the memory. I've never..." He shook his head and dropped her hands from his neck without letting go of them. "I don't know how to be that man. I don't know how to repay you."

Astoria let him hold her hands between them before she shook her head. "Do you _want _to repay me?"

Fenris dropped his gaze, unsure of how to answer. Astoria took a step towards him.

"Fenris, you owe me nothing. Any debt you think you have with me, you've paid it back a thousand times over just by being here."

Despite what she said, he felt otherwise. Knowing what he knew – and having memories to look back on – he felt as though he could never finish paying her back. It bothered him that he had gone for nine years without even knowing that she existed – that he had a wife and child who were on their own for so long. Feeding himself had been difficult at times when he was on the run, he could only imagine what it had been like for them, for Astoria to feed not only herself but a child and his mother and sister.

For some reason, Fenris was eternally grateful that she had taken care of his mother. That was the final nail in the coffin, he knew. He imagined his mother – red-haired and green-eyed – wandering around a city deliriously, being corralled back home by Astoria in the middle of the night. The fact that someone had done that for his mother relieved him.

The anguish that he had felt within the memory was astounding. It was a different pain, a pain he wasn't used to. It hurt inside, in his chest – it was the kind of pain where he felt like he could shatter. It spoke volumes of how he imagined he used to feel, how close he had been with her at a point in time so very long ago.

Fenris bowed his head and shut his eyes, threading his fingers through hers. He wanted to give her more because he felt that she deserved more. He hadn't imagined how difficult it would be to cross that threshold. In fact, he hadn't thought of crossing that threshold.

Astoria suddenly was releasing her fingers from his and wrapping her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest. Fenris hesitated only a moment before laying his arms over her shoulders and pressing his cheek to the top of her head.

"Don't torment yourself any longer, Fenris. You deserve to be happy." He heard her say softly. A dying part of him wanted to argue with her, but he couldn't do it. She was right, she could see him so clearly. He always tormented himself. He knew no other way. A clap of thunder sounded, much nearer than he had remembered the last one being, but he didn't move.

He shut his eyes as the rain began to fall.

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><p><strong>Bah, so long - but I couldn't break it up. I hope you guys enjoyed, as sad as it was.<strong>


	27. Nothing Ever Gets Easier

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading.**

**Thank you Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Spadequeen, Fallon Idalia & Kira Tamarion for your continued support and reviews! =) I really take everything you say into account, and you guys even give me ideas - details I may have looked over *wink*. You guys are the absolute best!**

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><p>"Oof, Fenris – careful!" Astoria let herself become a dead weight from where he pinned her against him, an arm locked around her chest.<p>

Fenris chuckled to himself, half-breathless with the exertion. "I am careful."

"It isn't fair, I don't want to hurt you." She huffed, frustrated, when he released his hold on her and settled back into his ready stance.

"You won't hurt me." He snorted with a smirk.

"Your ribs are still broken, Fenris, of course I could hurt you."

He jumped forward and swung his hand but she sprang backwards carefully, worry in her eyes.

"Is it bothering you that much?" He asked with a resigned sigh, relaxing his shoulders.

"Yes."

"Then don't attack me, just block."

She scoffed and tugged her scarf down to her neck, revealing that funny boundary of dust on her face. Fenris couldn't help but smile at how it made her look – though the darkened tone around her eyes made them stand out beautifully. He caught himself staring at her, at the dirt that shouldn't be flattering but it was, at the flushed pink of her lips that had hardly been exposed since leaving Hasmal.

She coughed once, the dirt in the air immediately irritating her throat. "I can't stand this place."

Fenris went for her, simultaneously trying to distract her with his hands but also hooking a foot around her ankle and yanking his leg back. Astoria toppled to the ground though she had deflected his hands.

"Don't focus on only one thing, Astoria," he suggested gently, smirking at the tiny cloud of dust that rose from where she hit the ground. It was impossibly dry there – the near daily thunderstorms brought little rain with them, and the tiny creeks they found were growing further apart. Still, they were both confident that they would reach Perivantium without dying of thirst.

Fenris helped her to her feet and glanced around. "Again."

She groaned and planted her feet on the dusty earth, bending her knees slightly as she waited. Fenris smirked and leapt to her, grabbing for her shoulder. She made the mistake he expected by grabbing his arm with both hands, leaving his other arm open. He pressed the thumb of his restrained arm into a pressure point and with his free hand, grabbed one of her arms, and spun her around before pinning her back to his chest.

"You need to be wary of this," he chided gently and breathlessly into her ear, "someone may take you hostage in this position."

She rolled her shoulder where he had pushed on her pressure point before leaning her head back into him. He wasn't letting go, but he relaxed his grip so that his left arm was resting gently across her chest, his fingers curled around her shoulder. His right hand clasped her wrist against her shoulder, but relaxed as well.

"Perhaps I should teach you how to throw knives, then?" She said with half a chuckle.

His lips twitched and he rumbled behind her, "And if your assailant hides behind you?"

"I'll give them a swift kick to the groin."

He sighed long-suffering, but shifted just slightly – in case she _did t_ry it. "I cannot be fully efficient in battle if I'm worried you'll end up here," he squeezed her shoulder and wrist for effect. "Holding you like this, I've rendered both of your arms useless, unless you are holding a dagger in your right hand. In that case," he took a mere second and a flash of movement to adjust so that now her arms were crossed against her chest and he only needed one of his arms to lock them to her, "I do this, and what will you do?"

Astoria looked at her predicament. Just as she was about to kick him in the shin, she found herself on her knees with Fenris crouched behind her, the back of the knuckles of his free hand ghosting her throat to symbolize a weapon. "Now what?"

"Now I am embarrassed."

He grinned. "No, you can get out of this. Do it."

Astoria groaned, frustrated. It had taken forever for Fenris to talk her into sparring with him. He had been itching to move, to do something other than walk. Since he had had that last memory, he had been somehow longing to get closer to Astoria – only partly feeling that he owed her some kindness.

She dropped her head in defeat, still considering. Then she tried to worm one of her hands free, which Fenris struggled with slightly, as she leaned back into him and got one of her legs to where she wanted it. She pushed off with her foot and struggled in his hold, and she got away.

Astoria fell back into the dust, her hands scrabbling at her side to brace herself before she rose to her feet with an accomplished grin.

Fenris smirked. "Better. But if I was kneeling on your calves?"

Astoria furrowed her brow in thought. "I would try to knock you off-balance, I suppose. Backwards."

He grinned and stood straight, wiping at his knees. "Good."

Astoria coughed, feeling the irritation of dust in her throat. Mild worry flashed across Fenris' features for a moment. "But Fenris," she said before coughing again and wrapping her scarf around her head again to cover her mouth, "I think if I put up that much of a fight, someone would just kill me."

He shook his head in disagreement. "If you were a common slave, yes. But you are skilled, attractive," he glanced away, "young and strong. And you are in the company of 'valuable property,'" he added bitterly, "using you would be a good way to bait me. That is why we need to continue sparring. We can't be efficient otherwise. I can't function in battle if I'm worried that you can't defend yourself."

Astoria seemed genuinely surprised and offended. "I can defend myself, Fenris, I've done it for ten years."

Fenris paused, his stomach seeming to plummet momentarily. It only took him a moment to do the math mentally. "Ten? But... I... my first memory was in August." His expression was nothing other than horror and panic.

Astoria's expression softened to the point of looking frightened. "Oh, shit. Fenris, I'm sorry."

"When did the competition happen?"

Astoria wasn't going to answer. She frowned, sadness overwhelming her features. "Fenris -"

He closed the distance between them swiftly, ignoring the fear that he saw flash in her eyes. "When was the competition?"

She clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, as if praying to the Maker for strength. "It was ten years ago... yesterday."

He felt as though the earth had been pulled out from under him, momentarily dizzy with the shock of it. "Yesterday? But it's... it's only the middle of June."

He suddenly couldn't believe that he hadn't figured it out before. Astoria had told him that after he turned eighteen, he had volunteered for the competition. He knew that had gotten married about a month before the competition, which meant that he had missed his anniversary. But at the moment, he didn't care about that.

Fenris had been at Danarius' for over a month before losing his memory. The possibility of all the awful things that had probably transpired made him shudder.

"Fenris – I'm sorry," Astoria cooed, anguished.

He clenched his hands into fists at his side, looking beyond Astoria at the endless and rolling expanse of dry prairie. In the distance a small herd of antelope grazed, too far for him to care about eating.

"Venhedis," he growled to himself. "That bastard had me for a month and a half before..." He stretched his arms out before him. "Was he not intending to make me this way at first?"

Astoria was mentally connecting the dots in her mind, keeping pace with Fenris. "I... I'm not sure, Fenris. Maybe they have nothing to do with each other."

Fenris had always assumed that his memory loss was due to the anguish, the physical shock of receiving his markings. If he had gotten the brands before losing his memory, then they were not related... it brought another question to the surface. How had he lost his memory? Were the two separate instances? Had his memory loss been an extra perk in the concoction of brewing Fenris as he was, not just something that came along automatically with the markings?

"I hate this," he hissed, "I am consistently being disproven – things I once thought to be true about myself are no longer."

Astoria gazed at him sadly, not speaking at first as he began to pace.

"Everything I know has been wrong – magic has spoiled_ everything_. I know nothing of myself – I am a mere body void of... a history, a purpose, I am missing most of my_ life_." Fenris paused, kicked at the ground, and then glared at Astoria, his green eyes swimming in a storm of emotions. "I need more – I need to remember. I'm going to lose my mind if those two memories are the only ones I have, Astoria."

As the maelstrom that he was, Fenris clenched his fists at his side though he wanted to tear out his hair and scream. If traveling with her had taught him anything, it was that he needed to work on his volatile temper. He took an angry step towards her. It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't attacking her, that he was pleading with her, begging her to help him.

Astoria took a breath and sent a silent prayer to the Maker as she closed the short distance that remained between them. Fenris trembled in all his rage and despair, and the heartbreak Astoria felt at seeing him so distraught was staggering. Fenris quaked as he stared at her, trying to rein in his emotions. She stopped a foot in front of him, hesitation catching her for a brief moment.

And then she rocked onto her toes and touched her lips to his.

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><p><strong>I thought it might be time. =)<strong>


	28. The Flood

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading.**

**Thank you Arquise, Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Spadequeen, Fallon Idalia & Kira Tamarion for your continued support and reviews! =) You guys are the absolute best!**

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><p><em> Fear, horror, panic, sadness.<em>

_ Leto ran across the courtyard, the blistering heat of the afternoon slowly beginning to fade. Anguish curled in him like a hurricane to the point where he thought he would burst with despair. His palm stung from where he had held the whip and he wanted to cut his hand off and never think of it, never be reminded of that day._

_ He flew past the courtyard as fast as his feet could carry him, and into the meadow – where the slaves quarters were beside the stables, always smelling of animal shit and hay. Home sweet home._

_ After that horrific thing he had done, Mavion had sat him down and congratulated him on a job well done. Mavion told him that he would make a fine warrior, that he was just the "cruel, heartless creature" that the competition had needed. The entire time Leto wanted to reach across that expensive desk and tear the magister's throat out for making him cause her so much pain._

_ Leto hadn't been able to finish Astoria's punishment. He had completed about thirty lashes before he broke down and collapsed to his knees in utter despair, unable to move. A guard had finished for him, and he was made to watch as she suffered for a much longer time than she would have if he had just been strong and carried through. Oh, he hated how he failed her in so many ways._

_ Dismissed, Leto ran as though his life depended on the will of his feet. If he had stayed in that study any longer he was sure he'd have made an attempt on the magister's life._

_ He saw her outside of the apartment where his family lived, on the end of the slave's quarters. Sharna had been given the apartment since she came to Mavion's with two small children – since no one wanted to live with toddlers, she had gotten the small, one bedroom hovel to herself._

_ Astoria was being supported, carried between his mother and Varania. They had tried to cover her up and maintain her decency with her ripped shirt, which had been entirely bled through. Still, Leto knew that Mavion had healed it to the point where she would survive but the wounds were still bleeding._

_ The horror, rage, sorrow, desperation and anguish he felt upon seeing her nearly limp between them seemed to steal his breath from him. Leto bowed forward, his hands on his knees as he blinked and tried to maintain his consciousness._

_ Suddenly Varania was shaking him._

_ "Leto, Leto," she cried out as she grabbed him by the shoulders, her tone fearful. "Leto, mother needs you to carry Astoria."_

_ Leto gasped, a palm at his forehead as he tried to shake the threatening loss of consciousness. He blinked several times and looked up. Sharna had sat Astoria down on the ground, a good distance from the quarters, and was running into her apartment, probably to fetch medicine. Varania was going after her, giving up on Leto._

_ He staggered forward towards Astoria where she teetered while she sat. He closed the distance between them and fell to his knees beside her._

_ She had hot tears streaming down her face, her eyes shut as she tried to maintain the pain she felt within her, trying not to cry out, her lips trembling._

_ "Astoria, mellita, my dear," he whispered, "I am so sorry – I'm sorry. It was that or you would stay here forever. I am so sorry."_

_ She gasped a sob and fell into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life. Leto carefully placed his arms around her where he thought there were no injuries, easing her into his lap as he dropped his head, burying his face in her hair._

_ Shame and despair overcame him._

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><p><em> "By the blood of sweet Andraste, Leto," Sharna pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "You're going to kill me someday!"<em>

_ Leto stood in the doorway, looking into the tiny and dark space where the four of them lived. Astoria sat in the corner, hugging Varania around the shoulders, humming her favorite song while his sister cried. He dropped his head the way he always did when he was reprimanded, always before he would smirk. But there was no smirk coming. This felt dire, final, more serious than anything he had ever been in._

_ Sharna didn't continue, and when he looked up he saw her gazing at the two in the corner. He connected his gaze with Astoria, and she wasn't angry with him. Though Varania rocked herself in her arms, sobbing against Astoria, he knew that she was grateful for what he had done._

_ Immediately it was like a weight had been lifted._

_ "I couldn't let him get away, mother," Leto said softly and solemnly. His jaw ached, as well as the rest of his body, once he thought about it. But it was worth it. It would always be worth it for Varania, for Astoria and Sharna, he thought to himself._

_ Sharna nodded slowly, her somber green eyes traveling up and down her son. "Are you hurt, my little moon?"_

_ He felt his lips moving to turn in a smile, but he couldn't. Not with Varania sobbing. "I'm fine, mother."_

_ Sharna rubbed her temples for a moment before going to Leto. She stood in front of him, slightly shorter and frail from years of feeding others before herself. His heart felt heavy as it always did when she had that solemn look in her gaze._

_ Sharna reached up to him and brushed his dark locks of hair out of his eyes. "What did the Master say?"_

_ Leto shut his eyes briefly as Sharna turned his jaw to examine a bruise._

_ "He will not kill me, or any of you."_

_ Sharna nodded. "I know that, but... he said nothing else of it?"_

_ "Nothing else matters, mother."_

_ A small smile came upon her face, the one of a woman whom the years have been long and unkind to. Her palm pressed against his cheek, her fingers bony and thin and calloused as they splayed across his face. Across the room Astoria's humming seemed to begin to soothe Varania. Always the caretaker, Leto thought. Sharna's voice stole his attention again._

_ "You are your father in so many ways, my little moon."_

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><p><em> "Oh, stop it, Leto," Astoria said with a crimson blush on her cheeks and ears, rolling her eyes as she leaned back against the tree. The shade was little comfort from the sweltering heat, but it would have to do. "We can't get married."<em>

_ Leto chuckled, his head on her lap as he looked up at her adoringly. He could smell the white flower tucked behind her ear. "Give me a reason, mellita."_

_ Her blue gaze darted across the courtyard as she played with his dark hair with one hand, and with the other, her fingers danced across his chest. The music of the songbirds drifted from the banyan trees._

_ "Well," she began slowly, not meeting his smile, "Mavion would have you killed."_

_ Leto stretched an arm over his head and rested his palm against her thigh. "But, you are already 'spoiled,' as he would say. There is no going back now."_

_ The blush worked its way back into her skin. "Leto – stop it, Varania might be able to hear us."_

_ Leto lifted his head and saw her. Young, fragile Varania sat with a sheet of vellum on her lap, drawing on it thoughtfully, so focused. A lock of her red hair fell across her eyes, and she smirked as she met Leto's gaze when she pushed it back behind her ear._

_ He smiled and let his head fall back on her lap. "She can't hear me."_

_ Astoria rolled her eyes, but she was smirking. "You elves can hear everything, I swear."_

_ "Don't change the subject," Leto grinned as he crossed his ankles, "give me another reason why I can't marry you. You're already 'spoiled,' if that is what you want to call it, but I don't believe such a thing is possible. If he will kill me because of it, let him. It will not undo what has been done."_

_ "I suppose that was my fault for agreeing to it in the first place," Astoria sighed, her shoulders sagging against the tree._

_ "Do you regret it, mellita?" He reached for her hand on his chest and brushed his lips against the back of it softly._

_ "Not for a second. But you may, someday."_

_ Leto frowned. "I will never regret it. You know that. Now, another reason. Please. That first one is null."_

_ Astoria rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "I am not an elf." Leto turned her hand over in his own and kissed her palm. "Your mother would never allow it."_

_ He snorted, bemused. "My mother has told me that she would marry us, if you so chose. She offered, I didn't even have to ask."_

_ Astoria gasped. "You're lying."_

_ "I wouldn't," he answered seriously, meeting her gaze with conviction. "Now, give me another reason. Come on, make it good."_

_ Astoria sighed. "We are slaves. As soon as... as Mavion decides to sell me off to another magister... I'll have to go. I don't want to hurt you, Leto."_

_ He took a long breath and threaded his fingers through hers. "It would kill me no more than if we were not married, Astoria. Even if you were to leave me now, you being sold in five years would crush me."_

_ Astoria looked down at him, a sad frown on her face. "You are impossible."_

_ He grinned. "Someday, mellita, you will marry me."_

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><p>Fenris stepped back only once before he understood what was happening, his eyes widening as the memories flooded him. He grabbed Astoria by the shoulders and pushed her away as he tried to keep from being overwhelmed by them all.<p>

He trembled again, his fingers digging into her shoulders with more force than he wanted and Astoria's face immediately showed regret and longing. But he didn't want her to regret it, not at all. He had more memories now. In a desperate attempt to coax more of them to his consciousness, Fenris leaned down and claimed her mouth with his. Her lips were so soft on his own, so gentle and tentative. He had never felt such a touch before – so careful and kind.

He turned his head slightly and responded eagerly to her almost frightened kiss, the rage and chaos he felt only a moment ago dripping off him in sheets. He parted his lips and kissed her in return, and then it was as if a fever claimed him – a hungry and primal urge in him flaring to life after being dormant for so long.

Fenris tried not to let the flood of memories distract him. He tried to focus on the present instead of allowing his interest in the memories to pull him away. He wanted more memories, and he thought they would come if he deepened the kiss. Aside from that , he _wanted_ to kiss her. He figured that he could go back to the memories afterwards.

He found his hands on her hips, eagerly dragging her closer before she was pulled flush against him, a small gasp escaping her as their bodies collided. Her breath on his lips was entrancing. Soon he found it difficult to even think of anything else except for the fit of his lips against hers, the warmth of her mouth interacting with his own.

He ran a hand in her hair, guiding her head as he continued the kiss, responding deeply as the world around them fell away. Astoria began to lean on him for support, as if her knees were giving away and he pinned her against him, ignoring the discomfort of his broken ribs.

Still, the kiss overruled it. She took his bottom lip in her teeth gently, and he felt a heat inside of him flare up like a wildfire, a pleasure so dizzying that he feared he would lose his balance. Perhaps it was the touching of her tongue on the very end of his markings, but Fenris didn't care, he didn't flinch the way he normally would when they were touched. He was actually enjoying it.

Maker's breath, he was even _reveling_ in it.

Her fingers threaded through the hair at top of his neck gently. A slight moan escaped from her throat and something in him snapped. He pulled away quickly, partly to breathe and partly to regain his shattered composure. His breath came in ragged drags, and Astoria groaned in protest at the kiss' end.

How did she undo him like that? He wanted to be angry, to tell her that this was wrong – even dangerous. That he could have assumed she was lunging for him again like the day he had met her. But he couldn't. He was too shocked at how... pleasurable it had felt. The memories shocked him.

Fenris felt warmth flooding to his ears and he bowed his head, trying to clear his thoughts because he felt like he would explode if he made eye contact with Astoria.

"You -" he began, his tone lacking the accusatory tone he had hoped for, "I remembered more."

Astoria was staring at him – the longing in her eyes so startling and clear that it made him swallow hard. No one had ever looked at him quite like that before – desire, affection, longing, and sorrow above the others. She took a step towards him, her mouth gaping as if she needed to say something, but she didn't. He had never seen such a tortured look on her face before.

"I... two of them were of the drawings – the one where..." his voice darkened, "you were punished, and the one where we were sitting under the tree. You had the flower in your hair," he gestured, watching Astoria's expression turn to surprise, "And another was when I killed the guard – afterwards, when I came back to the... quarters. That was such a small place where we lived. And you – you were comforting Varania."

Astoria's eyes were like saucers as she stared at him, welling with tears that went unspilled. "Fenris..."

He kept going. "What happened, when I killed the guard? I remember telling my mother that no one would be killed, but it felt like a lie."

Astoria furrowed her brow. "If I remember correctly, you only lied in that you didn't tell her that you were going to get punished."

Fenris tilted his head, confused. "She never found out?"

"You didn't want her to worry any longer than she had to." Astoria explained softly. The visible sorrow claimed her expression again and she opened her mouth again to say something. Her cheeks were flushed and her hands trembled at her sides. "Fenris...?"

"I'm fine. I am glad that I have more to look back on." he answered, shifting his jade gaze to the plains around them. Then his eyes flitted back to hers after a moment and he smirked, an eyebrow raised curiously. "You kissed me."

Clearly this was bothering her more than it was him – and that was unusual. Astoria blinked back her tears. "Fenris... I..."

Then she dropped her head, a blush tinting her cheeks. Something inside of her gave away, and she cleared her throat. She turned away and he frowned.

"Why did you kiss me?"

She was pinching the bridge of her nose, her shoulders shaking slightly as she struggled to remain strong. "I thought it would... de-escalate you."

He snorted and looked past Astoria at the dusty plains around them. She did that a lot – jumped into a precarious situation in hopes that drastic measures would end it. He thought of the time he had broken down on the Vimmark Mountain pass and she tried sparring with him to get him moving. "You are bold, Astoria. It may kill you someday."

"And you are volatile. I like to think we complement each other." She was effectively regaining her composure, but Fenris heard her sniffle once. Then twice.

He flattened his palms against the sides of his thighs and felt his lips twitch in a smile. Despite the sudden leap in this odd relationship he had with her, he was ecstatic to have more memories.

"Perhaps we do."


	29. Sick

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading.**

**Thank you Arquise, Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Spadequeen, Fallon Idalia & Kira Tamarion for your continued support and reviews! =) You guys are the absolute best!**

******I edited the end of the last chapter a bit, I'm not sure if anyone wants to go back and check it out. Spadequeen pointed out that Astoria's reaction wasn't exactly completely believable, and I totally agreed. If anyone notices things like this please tell me - I focus so hard on making Fenris in character that I think I neglect the others - whoops. That being said, enjoy and thank you for reading!**

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><p>Fenris and Astoria reached Perivantium a week later and spent one brief and fleeting night in the city's walls. He was eternally grateful for thir quick stay – seeing slaves all about the city and having to cover himself up was enough to make him more than paranoid and nervous. He had been on high alert, even as they shared a small room at the inn and Astoria wrote a letter to Hollan – saying that she would be in Minrathous as soon as possible and would like to meet the woman who knows Lysander's location. She did not say that she knew who the woman was, though in reality, there was no way to know for certain.<p>

They had also met with the leader of the Perivantium branch in a quick and rushed meeting. They learned that the meeting of the magisters would commence in September and last a week or so. The Imperium was going to war with the Qunari over Seheron, they were gathering a full army. This branch of the rebellion was planning several attacks on the estates of magisters that would happen in their absence.

This gave Fenris and Astoria a strict deadline. In order to ensure their safety, they had to make it out of the Tevinter Imperium before the magister's leave their gathering, which is essentially expected to be completed in the middle of September.

This meant that Astoria and Fenris had to make it to Minrathous, find Varania, find Lysander, and raid Valinius' estate in under three months. It would be tight, Fenris knew, but it had to be done. And, he would admit to himself, it was bringing a sense of purpose in his life.

He wasn't just surviving anymore, he was doing something with a goal, with meaning. It was such a new way of thinking.

Eshan, Garsen and their rebellion was likely to be a week behind them, but Astoria left a message for them and continued onwards, eager to get out of the ancient Tevinter city and cross the last stretch of the Silent Plains.

Fenris' memory was filling itself in by itself, to his eternal joy. Since the kiss they shared (one he wanted to reenact but didn't know how to initiate), he had been getting small flashes of his memory. They were tiny, fleeting moments of very little in particular, but he paid rapt attention to each one. At nighttime, he would think about each one, lost in his analytical thoughts as they all replayed endlessly in his mind.

_Two women leaning over a flowerbed, giggling and talking to each other. Varania and Astoria each taking turns pointing to different flowers, discussing them. Leto stood a distance away, brushing one of the magister's horses but paying no mind to the task at hand._

_ Astoria looked over her shoulder and met his gaze. They smiled at each other and she pursed her lips, sending him a kiss. Varania pushed her shoulder, exasperated, and waved to Leto._

_ "You can't see this, brother," she called to him with humor in her voice as Astoria locked arms with his sister, "You aren't supposed to see the crown until tonight."_

_ Astoria, who was holding a handful of flowers, hid them behind her back and blushed as Leto chuckled and patted the horse's shoulder. "It isn't a crown just yet, Varania."_

_ Varania rolled her eyes and tugged on Astoria's arm, leading her to a flowerbed that wasn't in view of him. Leto chuckled and gave Astoria a small wave as she sent him an adoring glance._

–

Fenris knew without being told what that memory was. It had to be of their wedding day. He remembered that Astoria wore a crown of flowers in her hair in the drawing of their wedding. She must have been picking the flowers with Varania earlier that day while he worked.

Seeing Varania in this light was unsettling for him. He had come to accept that he had been in love with Astoria at a time in his life, but he found it difficult to see that he had truly cared for Varania. Seeing the two of them acting like best friends, or sisters even, both heartened and bothered him. And if he did see Varania again, and killed her, he wouldn't only be killing his sister but also his wife's best friend.

_"Leto, have a seat, lad." Mavion waved across from him at an armchair. The morning light filtered in from behind him and gave him a somewhat divine aura, something Leto imagined was customary of all magisters._

_ Leto crossed the space in the study, anxiety coursing through him. He lowered himself carefully into the chair, aware of the guards in the room._

_ "So, Leto," Mavion steepled his fingers, "you have proven yourself skillful in your trainings."_

_ Leto bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, Master."_

_ "I think your skills could help both myself and your family. Are you interested?"_

_ It wasn't exactly a question, even though it was worded as such. Mavion chuckled._

_ "How would a boon of your choosing sound to you?"_

That was a memory that came to him in his sleep somewhere between the day they kissed and when they reached Perivantium. He knew what this one was as well – at least Astoria had explained enough of his previous life that he could fill in the blanks. It brought him a little peace, that he could figure some things out himself.

Still, he told her about them anyway. She listened with a gleam in her eye that told him she was just as happy about him getting back his memories.

He began remembering other things too. Tiny fragments – chasing Varania around Mavion's courtyard when they were younger, the embrace of his mother, holding hands with Astoria. They were fleeting, mere glimpses and scenes. As brief as they were, he found himself nearly obsessing over them, trying to coax just a little more from what lay dormant in his mind.

Those three women, he realized, had meant everything to him. On one level it embarrassed him and made him feel vulnerable. He had thought himself to be solitary and completely independent, free from the bondage of close relationships. He had wanted them, of course, before he had met Varania. He had always pursued information about his family. It was his greatest weakness.

On another level he knew he shouldn't be surprised. If he had sacrificed his entire future for them, then of course they had meant a lot to him, of course they were as wonderful as they should have been. It shouldn't have taken him so long to finally come to terms with it and he knew it.

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><p>They had left Perivantium two days earlier and had travelled northwest towards the distant tropical forests. Fenris was on high alert. He had found it difficult to sleep, letting Astoria rest as he kept watch overnight. This region of the plains was littered with farms, and the Imperium's guard traveled the Imperial Highway, though he and Astoria were far from sight of the road.<p>

He heard her humming from a short distance where they had decided to camp underneath the branches of a tree – a welcome and rare thing for the Plains. He had felt fatigued and hot, and they decided to escape the scorching heat of the middle of the day. Fenris shut his eyes and tugged his gauntlets off by the fingertips, dropping them to the ground behind him. He rolled his head on his shoulders and tuned in on Astoria's humming,

It sounded familiar to him, like everything she did felt, but he couldn't remember it. It may have been dehydration that triggered the next memory.

* * *

><p>T<em>he taste of iron spilling from his cheek and tongue, sliding down the back of his throat was all he could taste. Dust filled his nose as he scrambled frantically to his feet, ignoring the searing pain ripping down his back from his shoulder. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and more than anything it was obnoxious.<em>

_ He didn't know who they were cheering for. Magisters weren't exactly the type to cheer for the underdog. Leto was smaller than the elf he fought, who had clearly been fed better than he had and trained harder than he had._

_ The man snarled at him like a rabid hound and slammed his sword against his shield, trying to intimidate him. The crowd exploded, clearly in favor of the battle cry._

_ Leto steadied himself, rolling his injured shoulder as he gripped the handle with his hands. His opponent laughed maniacally – a crazed man, with bulging muscles and all._

_ This wasn't a fair fight._

_Leto knew he couldn't overpower him. No, he had to wait for the man to attack first, if he got lucky, he could find his opportunity. Leto knew he was fast, faster than any opponent he had seen so far that day._

_ The man let out a roar and the crowd responded with a cheer._

_ Maker, did he hate them all._

_ He blinked and he saw them. Varania and Sharna's copper hair shining in the sunlight, smiles on their faces. Astoria with her sky blue eyes framed with her thick lashes, classical features with wild locks of brown hair. She was laughing in his mental picture of her, and it shifted into her asleep beside him on the floor of their dingy apartment, her head rested on his bare, unmarked chest._

_ Leto took a breath and set his jaw, tightening his fingers around the great sword he was lucky enough to use._

_ His opponent rushed him. Leto sidestepped and deflected a blow of the man's short sword. He planted one foot in front of the man's leg and to his great luck, the man staggered. It was all Leto had needed._

* * *

><p>Fenris curled forward and put his head between his knees, sucking in his breath. His heart was hammering in his chest, the anxiety and stress of the memory spilling over into his current state. He dropped his head in his hands and tried not to pass out.<p>

Astoria was urging her flask in front of him, rubbing his shoulder. "Fenris? Drink some water."

He felt like he was being attacked still, like he remained in the competition. He knew he wasn't in danger, but he couldn't shake the feeling. He thought the crowd was still screaming, could almost still taste the dust and blood in his mouth, he could smell the sweat, feel it beading at the back of his neck.

He grabbed the flask and drank most of its contents in one long, desperate swig. He was sweating.

"Fenris," she purred beside him, her knees dipping under his bent legs as she knelt on the ground. She pushed his hair out of his face and wiped away the sweat on his brow. He kept his eyes pressed shut, his breath ragged.

"Fenris, are you ill?"

He wasn't sure. His throat felt tight, his stomach knotted. He felt the back of Astoria's hand on his brow, measuring his temperature.

"Fenris, lay down." He opened his eyes and raised his left hand, grasping her flask with the other. His fingers closed around her wrist and he gently brought it down into his lap.

"I..." he began to speak but couldn't, it took too much out of him. Astoria tugged on his shoulder, trying to encourage him to lay out under the shade.

"Lay down, Fenris, come on." He shut his eyes again. Astoria peeled his fingers from her wrist and rummaged through her pack. A moment later she pulled on Fenris' shoulders and this time he didn't resist. She eased him down onto a blanket she had rolled up to cushion his head.

"Alright, Fenris, I'm going to take your armor off," she told him gently, flicking the metal on his chest with a slight chuckle. He wanted to smile, he did, but he felt too hot, too exhausted. He felt her fingers working on the straps on his side. He felt the weight of his breastplate lift off of him and a slight groan of relief hit him.

Astoria's soft fingertips grazed over his brow again and rake his silky white hair away from his face. He felt his lips tugging towards a smile at the touch. He mumbled her name but felt a wave of nausea roll into him.

"Fenris, wait here," she leaned close to him. He opened his eyes and saw her brow furrowed in worry. She nudged his right hand where he held the flask. "Drink, Fenris."

Inside, he was panicking. He was useless in this state. He was vulnerable. If they were attacked, there was nothing he could do. He struggled to sit up, but Astoria pushed on his shoulders, all the while talking to him, trying to soothe him.

"No, Fenris, you need to lay down. Relax, I'll be within eyesight, I just need to get you water." He scowled as she pushed him back on the ground. He gathered what little strength he had in him and reached up with his free hand.

He snaked his fingers around the back of her neck, his palm flat against her skin. He didn't know what it was exactly that he was doing, but he felt an urge to pull her to him and kiss her.

"Fenris?" She froze, those icy but beautiful blue eyes wide. He wasn't sure if she feared him in that moment, and that realization hit him even through the haze of delirium.

He dropped his hand immediately, ashamed through his mental fog. Slowly, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. Astoria wiped the sweat from his brow again with her fingers.

The last thing he felt before he went under was the gentle feel of her lips against his forehead.


	30. All We Can Do is One Day at a Time

**Thank you everyone for reading and putting up with the boring stuff. I am so far ahead of this right now that I figured I'd give you another chapter because I'm just getting to the good stuff finally, and I want to start filling in the bridge between where I am and what you guys have read. That being said, this is my last week EVER of my undergraduate degree so I may not be writing as much as I might be able to - but who am I kidding, I'm obsessed with this story and I can't stop so I wouldn't worry about it.**

**Thank you Arquise, Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Spadequeen, Fallon Idalia & Kira Tamarion for your continued support and reviews! =) You guys are the absolute best!**

**MAKER'S BREATH - I forgot to say that the middle of this chapter is Astoria's POV. That may have thrown someone off.**

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><p>He had no idea how much time had passed. His memory of the past few hours or days was a blur. He remembered Astoria leaning over him, coaxing his mouth open with her fingertips on his chin, giving him water. He remembered the sweet music, her voice drifting into the nightmarish delirium in his mind. He remembered her fingers running through his hair.<p>

He remembered shivering violently and sweating as if he were in battle. He remembered awful things like whips, the voices of the magisters he had met, the feeling of electric magic cackling along his skin. He remembered dread, anxiety, the certainty of death on the horizon, soft hands pushing him on the ground.

What was a nightmare and what was real had no barrier between them. Often times it was only a voice that kept him tethered to reality – a song in elvhen that he couldn't understand. When she would stop he would groan and shake because the terror would overtake him.

He was sure he was dying.

But his fever broke in the middle of the night. It was like he had been plunged into cool water after a blistering day the way his mind began to clear. He rolled onto his side and tried to rub the bleariness from his eyes.

It was likely to be the middle of the night and there was no fire going.

He felt her hand squeezing his. "Fenris?" She asked, her voice sounding weary.

He dragged her hand to the center of his chest and swallowed. "You're here," he whispered.

"Of course I am." He felt her other hand push his hair away from his forehead, her fingers wiping at his skin. If he had the energy, he would have shivered at the touch. "You're doing better."

"How -" he was interrupted by her fingers touching his chin.

"Drink some water first."

He drank what he could and groaned, laying his head back down. "How long have I been here?"

Astoria raked her fingers through his hair gently. "Three days."

"What's wrong with me?"

"I... I don't know, Fenris. You got this fever all of a sudden. You've been having... hallucinations. I have a theory. I think it has something to do with your markings, with getting your memory back."

A distant thought flared up like a swollen river. He realized that even if he wanted to leave and go back home to Kirkwall, he couldn't. Not in this condition. This was the first time he was actually trapped since leaving Kirkwall.

How little that bothered him in comparison to his sudden illness amazed him.

"Why?" He asked hoarsely.

He heard her shift from where she sat behind him, still running her fingers through his hair. "Your hallucinations were awful, you kept groaning that you felt the 'lightning on your skin.' And... if the effects of the markings are deteriorating, maybe that's what made you sick? Lyrium is poisonous, maybe it's breaking apart."

He shook his head lethargically and squeezed her hand. "I can still... use my markings."

"I don't know then, Fenris. Maybe the heat just got to you."

He groaned. "I'm from Seheron. I was meant for the heat."

Her fingers swept over his brow gently. The touch soothed him. "You're right."

"Have you been singing?"

"Yes."

It was quiet for a long moment, before Fenris said quietly, "Thank you."

She hummed a response and raked her fingers through his hair. "Try to sleep, Fenris."

He wanted to ask her what had happened, what he had missed, how were they not discovered where they were, but he was exhausted. He realized that he must have not actually slept in days, but rather that he had been in a fitful nightmarish consciousness.

Fenris hugged her hand to his chest and spread out on the ground, shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

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><p>It was heartbreaking – watching Fenris toss and groan and twitch and flinch as if he's being burned alive. He kept swearing in Arcanum. I tried shaking him awake two nights ago but he reacted by curling up into himself and his eyes shot open hollowly, with a dead gaze that lingered somewhere beyond me. He was living in some sort of horrific nightmare.<p>

It seemed the only way I could help him was by singing. It was the only way he would start to relax and stop flinching. I want to so badly for him to stop hurting. Now that he seems... conscious... I feel like a huge weight has lifted.

If Fenris died out here, I don't know what I'd do. Of course, I'd keep looking for Lysander. I'd go meet Varania, demand to know what she knows. I'd even tell her that he never forgave her because that's how angry I'd be.

But he's holding my hand against his chest, and I think he's relieved that I'm there. I want to think that anyway. I suppose it will do.

I lean down and kiss him gently on the forehead. He always liked that whenever he was sick before. He rewards me with a noise in his throat that I think is pleased, but I can't be sure. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and I understand.

I feel like I can breathe for the first time in three days. He might actually survive. I can sense more than see the steady rise and fall of his chest, his quiet breathing, the clamminess of his skin slowly changing back to normal.

I allow myself to stretch out beside him, keeping our fingers intertwined. He makes a sort of hum of approval, and I smirk because it reminds me of how he used to be. My Leto.

Sometime during the night he releases my fingers and lays his arm out across my stomach, his fingers curling sleepily in the fabric of my tunic. I can't help but smile and I sleep for the first time in three days.

In the morning he's very nearly on top of me, his arm tighter around my waist with his chin touching my shoulder. After a few moments, I feel him go rigid beside me. My eyes are still shut, but I keep them that way. I don't want to embarrass him, for him to wake up and see how close he's gotten to me in his sleep.

I hear him suck in a small breath and slowly splay his fingers out on the fabric of my tunic, as if he's trying to make sure that I'm real and there. He's awake. I am painfully aware of how he doesn't take his hand back immediately, because I think that normally he would. I don't understand him.

I feel his head shift, his chin lift away from the top of my shoulder and I think he's looking at me. He slowly pulls his arm away from my stomach after a moment, and then I hear a tiny, exhausted chuckle.

"You're awake."

I open my eyes and turn my head. "How did you know?" I whisper.

He smiles – those rare and beautiful things that make my breath catch and put me almost in tears. I've missed those smiles. They're different now, not so youthful and carefree. Now his smiles are like small rays of sunshine that poke through a wall of pain and trauma.

"I always know if you're awake," he says huskily, throat dry from sleeping. His light expression falls into a frown and drags my relief with it.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

I watch his jade eyes examine me, scrutinizing my face as if he's never seen it before. "How long has it been?"

He forgot? "Three days," I answer.

"Oh, that's right." He says quietly. "What happened?"

He hasn't moved away from me. His chin is still close to my shoulder and it is a struggle to keep my breathing even.

I can't make eye contact with him because I may cry in my relief, so I turn my head and look up at the canopy of branches above us in the early morning light. I feel his gaze on me, unmoving and silent.

"I don't know what happened to you. All of a sudden, you just... you broke out into this awful fever. Within a few hours... you were having hallucinations. You kept swearing in Arcanum," I gesture with my hands, hoping that he'll stop me if he doesn't want me to continue, "you told me that 'lightning was on your skin.' And you had a seizure at one point."

I dare to glance at him but his face is unreadable.

"Do you remember anything?" I dare to ask.

Fenris looks away and I don't think he's going to answer. "I remember... I remember you singing. In elvhen. I don't understand the language."

I nod.

Fenris reaches out and takes my hand in his, threading his slender fingers through mine. He brings it again to rest in the center of his chest, the way he did last night.

I am stunned. Thank the Maker for that kiss, because it's shown me that on some level he wants affection. I am more than willing to return it.

"The last thing I remember, before it happened, is... a memory." My eyes widen in response and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "It was the competition. I was fighting an elf, and it wasn't a fair fight. He was at least twice my size and had a shield. No one cheered for me."

I turn onto my side and know that worry is clear on my expression.

"I want to remember better things. Happier times. The few I have are... fleeting."

I see for the first time how scared he is – he is afraid that the memories will either stop coming or they'll vanish from his memory. What would he do if they did? Would Fenris leave me to this task alone in his frustration?

I hope not. I can't bear the thought of him leaving now – after he's come this far with me. I had hoped that I wouldn't fall in love with him. I had almost hoped that the changes in his character – the difference between Leto and Fenris – would be enough to allow me my own peace and grief. I had hoped that traveling with him wouldn't rake up all those feelings I used to have.

But no. There are enough similarities in him to his old ways that I ache for him in every bone and nerve ending in my tired body.

"We'll work on it together," I whisper softly. His deep green eyes examine my face, flitting between my hair, my neck, my mouth, my eyes. I realize I've stopped breathing, but to his credit he doesn't point this out.

I see him go to say something, but he stops and releases my fingers from where he was holding them against the center of his chest. With his now freed hand he pushes a small strand of hair out of my face and then gives me a faint smile.

And then the moment is over and Fenris sighs, pulling himself to a seated position against the tree.

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><p>"Every time I get closer to you, I remember more," Fenris said dryly, his voice void of emotion. He was sitting against a tree trunk, too weak to stand while Astoria sat a couple feet away and look at the list of memories that had come to him and their antecedents.<p>

"That is odd." She acknowledged, before her eyes flitted towards him and a slight blush began its way up her neck. "Since the kiss they have been filling themselves in. So the question is... what now?"

Fenris' lip curled slightly and only for a moment towards a smirk. "What are you comfortable with?"

Astoria chuckled. "I'm not sure you genuinely want the answer to that."

Fenris studied her for a long moment, his green eyes narrowing in suspicion. He had a feeling that she wanted to deepen their relationship. In doing so, he may remember more – as that seemed to be the trend of late. He didn't know if he could bring himself to be more than he was to her.

"Why is that?" He asked with a frown.

Astoria pinched the bridge of her nose before steeling herself and squaring her shoulders. "I miss what we used to have. Does that answer it for you?"

Fenris nodded. So she did want more from him.

It's not that he felt otherwise, because he didn't. He wanted to pursue it – half with the hope of more memories and half with the realization that he liked her as she was; a beautiful, kind, strong and patient woman. He was yet a man with the desires common of men, but Fenris was not used to pursuing these said desires. And as much as he didn't want her to be, she was more than that. She was his wife, and he knew it would be cruel of him to lead her on in any way, that he had to be all in or all out.

Fenris swallowed hard, and then shut his eyes. "I like your answer," he said quietly.

Astoria's eyes widened slightly as she realized what this meant for her, for them. "So what do _you_ wish to do, Fenris?"

He dropped his head, eyeing his gauntlets beside him as he tried to think.

Astoria took the heat off of him, suggesting, "Take it one day at a time?"

He lifted his gaze and nodded. She smiled in response and folded up the sheet of vellum.

"One day at a time," Fenris agreed.


	31. Tangible

**Thank you everyone for reading, and thank you to Bear Mage and Arquise for the reviews on the last couple chapters. I had to get them out of the way. Let me know what you think. =)**

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><p>"Mangoes – Fenris, I've found mangoes!" Astoria bustled into the small clearing loudly and tossed him a ripened fruit with a wide grin on her face. Fenris caught it in his lap and examined it quickly before he continued stoking the fire, trying to keep it small and easily manageable.<p>

"You... like mangoes, I presume?" It had been over two weeks since they had left Perivantium, and they had made substantial progress. Now they were only a day's journey from Marnus Pell.

"Of course. I think we're officially in the tropics." She sat down heavily against a banyan tree and took out a long dagger, plucking a mango from her lap as she cut into it.

Fenris rolled his head on his shoulders, trying to relax. Their close proximity to a Tevinter city unnerved him, but he wasn't turning back. Not now.

It was sweltering there, in the middle of the summer, even under the vast canopy of the warm forest. The rains had started, and within a week or so it would be raining almost constantly. Now, however, they were enjoying a break in the clouds. Astoria had her clothing rolled up to reveal her slender calves, and didn't wear her gloves. Fenris found himself watching her sidelong as she cut up the fruit and he took out a whetstone and began sharpening his blade.

They came across more dangerous animals here – panthers and alligators chief among them, but hadn't had too much trouble so far. And they stayed far enough from the road that they didn't need to worry about running into any slavers or Imperial guards.

Fenris ran the stone along the blade's edge long after Astoria handed him a bowl of fruit. She settled against the tree and pulled out a stack of vellum wrapped up in a light leather.

Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat as it registered what she was about to look at. He had never seen her go through them, whereas he looked at them almost nightly.

He had wanted to see the drawings that she carried in full. He had looked through them one night, but hadn't seen them all. They were mostly of Lysander and his family, he imagined since he judged them on the few that he had seen. Still, he wanted to look through the stack with greater care, privately so that he could linger where he wanted and not feel eyes on him.

Fenris watched with vigilant attention as Astoria unwrapped the stack of vellum and pulled a piece of folded vellum out of the middle of the stack. Twilight had fallen on the forest and fireflies were out in full force. It was truly a beautiful night.

He noticed in great detail the smallest twitch of the corners of her lips, the way her eyes gleamed as she looked at the drawing in her slender fingers. That was the look she got when that fire built in her – the way she stepped into action like at Tantervale, the way she shone when she spoke about his family.

She studied the drawing for a while as Fenris continued running the whetstone over the blade hypnotically, but he didn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she ran her fingertips along the drawing's image, gazing fondly at the art.

His curiosity got the best of him. Fenris cleared his throat and stopped sharpening his blade. Astoria didn't notice, as lost in the drawing as she was.

Fenris felt his lips twitch in a smile. "Astoria?"

She looked up at him doe-eyed and a blush bloomed from her neck.

"May I see?" He asked softly.

Astoria looked as if she was truly considering, teetering on answering with a no. Disappointment swelled in Fenris' gut, but Astoria nodded and smiled, getting up to sit beside him.

He didn't flinch from the touch of her shoulder against his arm. Instead, he moved his great sword aside and looked over at the vellum in Astoria's hand.

It was a beautiful drawing. In it, Sharna held a newborn child in her arms. Tears ran down her weary face and her hair was braided down her back. She looked down at the newborn with a smile, her fingers curling around the blanket that was wrapped around the dark-haired infant.

Beside Sharna, Astoria lay, also in blankets, looking exhausted. A sleepy smile was on her face as she watched the baby and her hair was hanging down, strands of it clinging to her forehead. Varania had even captured the puffiness of her eyes – she had been crying.

Fenris swallowed audibly, but he did not falter. His gaze flitted to meet Astoria's, and he saw that she was watching him with hope and affection. What a strange way to look at him. No one had ever looked at him like that. Even Isabela, who was the closest thing to this, didn't show that in her eyes. He saw lust and desire in Isabela's eyes, and it made him feel like an empty vessel, a shell. It was the way Danarius had looked at him at times.

But Astoria did not resemble that at all, even in the slightest degree. She held one of her hands out tentatively, an offering.

He knew he didn't have to take it, to accept her offering. But he did anyway, and Fenris couldn't imagine himself ever denying himself this pleasure – holding her hand. He placed his palm in hers and dipped his fingers between her own.

He pulled her hand into his lap and glanced at the drawing, but couldn't find any words.

Astoria smiled and held it up for him to see. "Your mother and Varania... I don't know how I would have survived that day if it weren't for them. I thought I was dying, but your mother said that she wouldn't have it, that I had to keep pushing. It was excruciating. Varania held my hand even though I think I may have broken her fingers."

At the mention of his backstabbing sister, Fenris frowned but he didn't toss in some icy comment. Astoria smiled again, not taking her eyes off the drawing.

"I hadn't thought of a name yet," she tapped her fingers to the drawing's borders, "since I was chasing your mother around the streets of Minrathous and trying to provide for them. But when he was born... she gave him that name – like she had been holding onto it, like she always knew that he would be named that. I couldn't say no to her. It was the first time she was coherent in months."

Fenris ran his thumb over the back of her hand and remained silent, his eyes lingering on the drawing. He had missed so much – so many things that defined other men his age. He remembered Donnic, one of his few friends from Kirkwall, talking about how complete he would feel if only he and Aveline had children. Men found purpose in their families, their wives and children, and Donnic had been no different.

He felt his lips twitching at the memory of bringing this up with Aveline. She had blatantly told him that she wouldn't ever go through pregnancy, he had laughed and told her "fair enough."

He wondered what things would have been like under other circumstances. If he had been present during this drawing, if he had been there when his child was born – would he be a different man?

Fenris was startled back into reality when Astoria began folding up the drawing.

"You _never _look at them," he said softly. "Why tonight?"

She wiggled the vellum back into its place in the middle of the stack and gave him a small, polite smile. "Because today is the day I realized I was pregnant."

Baffled, Fenris opened his mouth but he was at a complete loss as to what to say. He knew that sometimes words could mean nothing, at other times they could make all the difference. It was difficult to tell the difference between those times. Fenris was a man who never jumped at the idea of consoling anyone, and in fact he wasn't even sure if Astoria needed consoling.

"I actually dreaded giving birth," she confessed sadly. Fenris saw the slight tension leave her, as if it were a secret that she had kept and in telling it a weight lifted. "I couldn't imagine feeding _another_ mouth. It felt so selfish and irresponsible to bring a child into this awful world, to bring one into _our_ situation. I kept wondering what would happen if Sharna started to wander when I was in labor. Varania would have to choose who to help. Should she chase after your mother or help me? I kept wondering if I would be able to leave the baby with Varania and Sharna when I had to find food – if Sharna broke down while I was gone, Varania would be stuck and overwhelmed. Here I was bringing a 'burden' into the world when we had enough to deal with. I had never felt so alone than when I found out I was pregnant. I was so angry at everything."

Fenris frowned and squeezed her hand gently. He had never quite thought of this before. Astoria sighed and ran her free hand over the stack of vellum.

"Sometimes you get to a point where you think the universe just wants to watch you struggle." She said, sound wise beyond her years and frustrated with the hand she was dealt.

He held her gaze firmly, his forest green eyes swimming with admiration. She was a kindred spirit – so alike him that it was actually quite unnerving.

"And you did it anyway. You still had him."

She looked down, away from him and leaned towards him slightly. "I never thought of_ not_ having him, not for a second. I just didn't want to. But he's yours, I really had no choice. I thought he would be a girl. You had said you would want a girl, if we were to ever have a family."

His chest tightened, and his breath caught. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand half-absent of mind. If there was something to say in turn, he may have spoken. Luckily, Astoria sensed his predicament and gave him a small smile.

"Don't worry, Fenris. You don't have to placate me and tell me that you'll be there. I've fed three mouths before, I can do just fine with Lysander. We don't need your help if you are reluctant to give it. But that's still too far away for you to decide, I'm sure."

Fenris gave a nod, glad that she didn't expect him to jump at the chance of being a father. "It may not be as far away as you think."

"Two years, Fenris. He's been away for two years. Every day I spend away from him... crushes me more and more."

Fenris swallowed and watched her carefully, watched every minute detail. He couldn't tell her that they would get the boy back, because he didn't know and he wasn't the type to lie or placate someone. He couldn't reassure her if he didn't know the boy's fate.

"I wonder what I've missed," Astoria continued, "Does he have nightmares? Who holds him and sings to him if he does? Does he think I've forgotten about him? Does he even remember what I look like? Is he safe? Is he being fed enough? It eats me alive."

Fenris could see the gloom swirling in her eyes. He felt awful for her, and that feeling was strange. Compassion wasn't something that Fenris was all too familiar with.

"I'm sure that he doesn't believe you've forgotten about him," Fenris said with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "He probably threatens the magister everyday that you'll come save him."

She blinked back tears and gave him a slight but sad smile. "If he is anything like you still, he has threatened the magister with more."

Fenris looked at her for a moment before bringing her hand to his mouth and brushing his lips on her skin, before dropping her hand slowly back to his lap. Astoria smiled warmly and met his gaze for a brief moment, before Fenris felt a blush creeping up his neck and he nodded towards the stack.

"What else do you have?" He asked in an effort to divert her attention.

She hummed and examined the stack, with her free hand flipping through the sheets of vellum.

Astoria plucked a drawing and unfolded it. She flattened it out with her free hand and watched him as his eyes went to it curiously.

It was of him. Only him. Him from before – free of markings with dark hair and a calm, happy look in his eyes that seemed too foreign to be his own. He was young – probably sixteen or so. His jaw wasn't as strong back then, his arms weren't as muscular and his shoulders not as broad. But he still had the same general look.

In the drawing he sat cross-legged, facing Varania. He had his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward towards Varania and braided three straps of leather. The smallest of smiles was on his face, and Fenris noticed that Varania had drawn the edges of his ears slightly darker. His lips were pressed tightly together, as if he was suppressing a laugh.

It seemed familiar to him. Recognition tugged at the edges of his consciousness. He was sure he had seen this before.

"What... what is this? When was this?" He asked quietly, his hand going still where it held hers.

Astoria smiled fondly. "You were fifteen here. You were making this... bracelet."

"A bracelet?" He furrowed his brow, eyeing the drawing warily. By the blushed tint of his ears, Fenris imagined that he knew what was happening. "For you?"

"Yes." She said, still grinning. "I had only just come to Mavion's. I was scared and I cried a lot, and I think you felt bad for me. You made me this bracelet and told me that it would be alright. You told me to -

* * *

><p><em>'Stay as strong as you are beautiful,' Leto said sheepishly with a smile, pressing the leather bracelet into Astoria's palm. Her dazzling blue eyes widened in surprise and admiration.<em>

_ Astoria sat back on her heels where she knelt on the floor with the rag left unattended. Her knuckles were cracked and bleeding slightly._

_ Leto gently took her hand where she held the gift, her fingers closing around it. She was speechless, and he struggled to keep the smile from being too obnoxious on his face. Holding her hand, he ran the fingers of his other hand over her knuckles._

_ "If you come with me later, my mother can fix these for you." Leto pulled his hands away with a gentle smile._

_ "Th-thank you," she said, finally finding something to say. She glanced at the bracelet in her palm and then held it between her thumb and index finger of both hands. "Did... did you make this?"_

_ He shrugged. "It only took a few minutes. Varania taught me how. She's my sister. You may have seen her – she has copper hair. Elf."_

_ Astoria's eyes flitted around the foyer and Leto nodded towards the rag as he continued cleaning beside her. She chuckled and put the bracelet in her pocket before curling her fingers back around the rag. She leaned over and continued scrubbing the floor._

_ "Oh? Your sister's an elf?" She asked, and it took him half a second to realize that she was jesting. Her voice, however, still showed how clearly nervous she was._

_ He chuckled in reply. "I suppose I didn't need to clarify that."_

_ This time he got a small laugh from her and the sound was so pleasant. He thought he could listen to it for years to come._

_ "I think I have seen her around. She likes to draw, right?"_

_ "Yes. She's talented."_

_ Astoria nodded and relaxed her grip on the rag as her bleeding worsened slightly._

_ "You should come look at her drawings. I tell her all the time how good they are but she thinks I'm just being nice." Leto inwardly groaned at his obvious eagerness, but Astoria didn't seem put off by it._

_ "Thank you." She dropped her gaze to the floor and then sighed, her brow knit together in worry. "I'm sorry. I'm usually more... approachable."_

_ Leto gave an understanding nod. "It's not every week you're sold into slavery."_

_ She trembled beside him and bit her bottom lip, and Leto saw that tears were brimming in her eyes. He cursed himself for speaking so foolishly._

_ "Don't worry -" he said quickly, his grin gone from his face. He glanced around. There was a guard posted at the top of the staircase, but he didn't seem to be focused on them. "Master Mavion is one of the better magisters."_

_ Astoria blinked back her tears and glanced at him. "Really?"_

_ He nodded reassuringly but continued working. "Definitely."_

_ Astoria shivered. Her blue eyes planted themselves on the marble floor and she slowly, methodically dipped the rag back in the bucket of soap water and wrung it out. "What's going to happen to me? The magister said he wanted me 'unspoiled,' does that mean what I think it means?"_

_ Leto frowned and thought about not answering. But slowly and eventually he gave a nod. "I don't know what will happen to you. But it isn't hopeless." He waited a moment until she met his gaze and looked away sadly, as if she didn't believe him. "Stick with me for now – I can show you how to go by unnoticed."_

_ A faint glimmer of a smile spread across her face. "Thank you..."_

_ "Leto." He offered her a grin._

_ "Leto," she said softly, like she was committing it to memory. His heart fluttered at the sound of his name on her lips. "I'm Astoria."_

_ "Beautiful name." He wrung out his own rag over the bucket and chuckled. "I'm supposed to actually be cleaning the kitchen. But I wanted to say hello. I live at the end of the stables, in the apartment with my family." Leto stood up and glanced up at the guard before smiling at Astoria. "If you would like to know my mother's secret to bleed-free hands."_

_ She chuckled and nodded. "You can count me there already."_

* * *

><p>Fenris realized that his fingers were digging into her skin. Even pleasant memories like this made him go tense like a coiled spring. He relaxed his grip and looked at her. She was staring at him half curiously, half in shock. It looked like she had said more, like he had missed part of whatever had happened during the memory.<p>

"... Fenris?"

"I..." he choked on his own words, "remember this. Your hands were bleeding, I told you to visit us. My mother could fix it."

Astoria's eyes went wide in surprise and joy. She glanced at the drawing. "Do you know what caused the memory?"

Fenris shut his eyes. "It cut in at a certain point. I said 'stay as strong as you are beautiful.'"

She laughed. "That's what I had said. Fenris... this is a good sign, is it not?"

He quirked an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to her again. "I believe it is. Is that the first time I ever talked to you?"

"Yes."

"Heh." He recalled how nervous he had felt in the memory. He remembered the elation that filled him when she laughed and repeated his name.

Fenris sighed, realizing for the first time how exhausted he was. Not from traveling, but from running for the past eight years. He had lived like a cornered animal, alert and wary of everything. It was exhausting living like that, constantly being paranoid because that was the only way to survive.

He had never allowed anyone in, to his knowledge. The memory led him down a path where he actively pursued his own happiness – and it was such a stark contrast to what he was used to. Fenris actively pursued survival, not happiness. He did not believe that the two could ever work together.

"Do you still have the bracelet?" He wondered aloud, his eyes zeroed in on their hands because he couldn't look her in the eye and show his interest.

"I do," she replied softly. "It's no longer a bracelet, just three strips of frayed leather." She dug in her pack and retrieved a three strands of leather braided together – the ends burned and melted to prevent further breaking. She held it out to Fenris as an offering.

It was proof. Tangible proof. The exact one from his memory, but extremely aged in comparison. He took the bracelet from her palm and examined it, rubbing his fingertips along it, hoping he could coax something more from it.

It was too much to hope for, he knew. He was angry that he had been disappointed when nothing more came to him. Frustrated, he gave the leather back to Astoria and settled further against the tree. He was done talking for the night, but he still held Astoria's hand between their bodies as they both watched the hypnotizing seduction of the fire's flames.

Fenris had never pursued his own happiness before, if one did not count his own freedom. But freedom was a standard, a baseline as he saw it. Happiness was more – another level. He wondered if happiness brought it's own feeling of freedom, one he had never experienced before.

He was willing to find out.


	32. The Final Stretch Begins

**Oh my God, you guys make me smile so much! Thank you to Kira Tamarion, Fallon Idalia, Wicked Lullaby (welcome back!), and Bear Mage! I have individual responses for all of you soon, I'm just in the middle of my finals and craziness.**

**Also, I'm thinking of doing a prequel (maybe sequel, we'll see) to this - like Leto and Astoria stuff. If anyone would want to see any of it, let me know.**

**Thank you all for reading, seriously, it makes my day every time, and please let me know what you think. =)**

* * *

><p>In Marnus Pell, Astoria sent another letter ahead to Minrathous. It was intended to tell Varania that she was getting closer to the city, and they would be meeting soon. It put Fenris on edge, to say the least. He was irritable and substantially more frightening in such a state – and not only to Astoria but to everyone else. In their short time in the city they both remained hooded and had tried to blend in to the best of their abilities. Fenris kept his black scarf around his neck to keep people from seeing his markings.<p>

He prowled behind Astoria with a walk that could have been considered angry. And luckily for them, no one approached them or bothered them, and they were able to leave the city without consequence.

All that lay before them to Minrathous was Asariel – where Valinius lived, and the numerous settlements on the ocean that were somewhat negligible. They would have no fear of going hungry or thirsty in this stretch of their journey – but Fenris had other worries such as magisters.

The middle of July in the Imperium brought with it heavy rainstorms with no end in sight. Thunder and lightning seemed to rip the earth and sky in two at times, and neither of them slept comfortably – even growing cold some nights without wood dry enough for a fire. They lived off of the fruit they picked and spent their nights sleeping – both of them, through the night. The forest was dense enough that they didn't have to worry about anyone seeing them, especially without a fire. And with the rain, Fenris had nothing to keep him busy since he normally looked through the drawings and the letter from his mother while he took his watch. They took a chance in not rotating the night watches, but nothing bad had happened.

Astoria was miserable. Fenris had been good about ignoring it most nights, but sometimes he didn't. Knowing that Astoria was uncomfortable bothered him on some degree and did keep him from sleeping as well as he wanted to, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He could peek out and see Astoria curled up in a ball, shivering with her long hair clinging to her skin and chilling her. Even though they had built a shelter, it wasn't as sufficient as he had hoped. The ground was still soaked and water dripped through the many cracks.

"Come here," he growled impatiently one night as Astoria huddled in on herself and shivered in the growing dark around them, her teeth chattering involuntarily. She looked up from where she hugged her knees to her chest curiously, as if she was wondering if she misheard him. The shelter was small, but she had always made sure to give him his space, even after the one kiss they shared.

Fenris patted the sopping ground beside him and she had obliged warily. She scooted closer to him and he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. His movements were more jerked with how cold he was – soaked to the bone from the endless rain. It was uncomfortable to curl his fingers around her armor.

Astoria understood what he was trying to do and she stretched out alongside him, keeping her hands to herself and turning away from him as he inched closer to her.

"For warmth," he told her huskily, irritation blooming in his voice, though he was not irritated with her particularly, but more at his predicament. He was irritated that he felt badly for her, irritated that on some level he longed to be closer to her.

Immediately he felt her warmth slowly spilling out towards him. He pressed his chest against her back and buried his face in her hair shamelessly. He told himself that he was just tired of living the way he had for the past two weeks – constantly shivering and pissed off from the rain that never seemed to actually clean anything.

Her hair was damp and instead of lavender, it smelt like other flowers – flowers they had come across in their more recent travels. Astoria liked to pluck them and put them in her hair since she didn't always have the luxury of bathing. He noticed that she liked the lilies and daisies the most, but would settle for the purple flowers that reminded him of bells. She would braid them into her hair in the mornings while he slept, and he assumed it was because she was bored and she didn't want to wake him.

He noticed small things like that. The way she let him sleep in until he roused himself, the way she would roll her daggers over her knuckles when she was anxious or bored.

Fenris ignored the pounding of his chest as he tried not to breathe in her flowery scent too deeply. He was aggravated and on-the-edge overall, but this felt nice too and it took a while before he would let himself relax against her.

"Only for warmth?" Astoria's voice startled him, a mere murmur as the downpour roared around them. She was nervous, and a pang of guilt shot through him. He knew that he was the reason she was nervous. He had almost killed her a few times – why would she ever want to be close to him?

"Is there more that you would have from me?" He asked gruffly into her hair.

Astoria went still for a moment. "I... uh... Fenris..."

Fenris chuckled. He knew the answer to that, but he wanted to confirm it.

"Astoria..." it was a low but somehow calm growl that escaped his lips as his eyes fluttered shut, "you are unlike any woman I've ever met."

She shivered. "Uh... are... are you drunk, Fenris?"

He frowned. "No." She had known that. They hadn't had any alcohol in weeks.

"Th...thank you."

Fenris splayed his fingers on her stomach, on top of the leather. "I... I know that I appear ungrateful for everything. Nothing could be further from the truth. I never... never thought I needed anyone, or _wanted_ anyone," he swallowed audibly from where he essentially hid in her hair.

_Until now_, he thought, but couldn't bring himself to say it.

Astoria sucked in a breath beside him and put a hand up to her face. He wasn't sure what she was doing since she faced away, but he frowned and hoped that he hadn't just said too much, exposed himself. It had to be done.

"Astoria...?" He hoped she wasn't crying.

It seemed like decades passed, but it had only been a few seconds. In those few seconds, Fenris regretted telling her to come near him, regretted everything he said.

"I've... needed to hear that." She explained softly.

His chest constricted, but he felt a smirk starting on his face. He breathed in her damp, flowery hair and ducked his head slightly, leaning his forehead against the back of her skull. He remembered the violence in which he greeted her for the first time at Danarius' mansion, how he had made her head slam against the stone. Such an awful sound now where it rested in his memory.

He was a monster. The smirk fast disappeared and he took an unsteady breath.

The abomination had called him a wild dog, and he had been so correct. Fenris sometimes became sickened when he thought of himself. Murdering the Fog Warriors, trying to kill his sister, nearly killing Astoria... he felt like a broken man.

But he had been made that way, cornered like an animal and left to fight like an animal.

Fenris took in his shaky breath and tried to just _enjoy_ her. Fenris never enjoyed anything. He survived, he paid attention, he _got by_. He pursued little more than that. He hadn't thought more would mean anything to him – he hadn't wanted more.

But he wanted her. Of that he had known for longer than he cared to admit.

But did he want to be a father? On that subject, he knew he would be all in or all out from the beginning. With Astoria too, he felt himself in the same predicament. But he wasn't sure if he wanted her or the_ idea_ of her, of being happy.

"I have little to give you." He admitted solemnly.

"And I you."

He didn't know if they were on the same page. Emotionally, he had little to give her. That was what he had meant. He wondered if she thought he was closing the door – saying that he had little to give her meaning that he had little that he _would _give her. As he opened his mouth to clarify, he felt her hand come to rest on his own where it pressed gently against her stomach.

And he knew she understood. Kindred spirit, indeed.

He smiled and settled as much as he could. Though his recent life choices led him to a path he was sure would end in his demise, in this moment he was not afraid. He was invincible.

* * *

><p>Fenris stood at the bank of the river, eyeing the tinted water warily. It was not clean enough to bathe in, nor was it safe enough. As if on cue, he noticed two small mounds surface the water a good distance from him. An alligator's nostrils and eyes.<p>

He frowned and turned, wiping the sweat from his brow. The weather was awful. They were lucky to get a break in the rain, but he had wished otherwise. The heat was unbearable and Fenris wondered if he was getting a fever again.

He wondered where Astoria was.

In the Silent Plains, he didn't mind her leaving him to hunt. But in the jungles of Tevinter, Fenris couldn't help the uncomfortable worry from squirming in his stomach. He couldn't see or hear her, and he didn't know how she'd be able to find him.

His mind jumped to irrational conclusions easily. It was part of the package. Fenris always had to prepare for the worst, always had to worry that _someone _was out to get him. That was how he survived.

Old habits die hard. Or as Hawke had said once, "Once a slave, always a slave."

The thought of Hawke surprised him the slightest bit as he stepped away from the river and back towards the camp. He hadn't _missed_ his companions. Sure, they were sometimes decent people – each of them on varying degrees, but he wasn't close to them.

He was always on the fringe. He thought he was invited to the Hanged Man only because the others were polite. Sure – some of them genuinely did like him. But no one liked him the way Astoria did. She went out of her way for him, more than Hawke. She loved him.

He corrected himself. She loved Leto, not Fenris.

Still.

Fenris sagged his shoulders in an effort to relax in the slightest bit. Every sound nearby made him twitch towards his sword.

He had been alone now for three hours, judging by the shift in sunlight. But that was difficult to judge with the thick canopy of leaves.

There was a whisper of a sound, far off.

Fenris froze. As quiet as he was, he was still loud enough to scare off game. If this was Astoria hunting nearby, she'd miss her chance.

He listened carefully, his eyes trailing slowly over the wall of green that engulfed him.

Another sound. A voice, maybe. He couldn't tell.

Fenris stood there for a few more moments. And then there was the sound of twigs breaking in the distance – so faint that he almost hadn't thought at all of it if not for the voices.

Men were shouting.

Fenris felt everything inside him plummet. He was alone in the jungle – and men, someone's men probably, were closing in around him. He was trapped between them and the alligator-infested river.

As he always did, he thought of the worst. In the specific, horrific scenario that commenced in his mind, Astoria had betrayed him and sent a magister's men after him. That's why she had been gone so long.

More shouting.

Fenris readied his sword in his hands and tensed like a cornered animal. He'd kill her for this, no doubt.

And then she came crashing through the brush, eyes wild and wide and... frightened.

"Fenris!" She whispered, sounding frantic. Fenris held his sword out defensively, glaring at her. But his expression fell as she came fully into view. Blood dripped down her, but if it was her own he could not tell.

"Fenris," she gasped and turned on her heels. He could tell that she had trouble breathing, her chest heaving as she watched the forest around them with intense scrutiny.

"What's happening?" He growled fiercely, taking an angry step towards her, waving his sword with a glare. Astoria glanced at him and her face fell.

"Oh – oh, Fenris – what...?"

Something caught her attention, and it looked like it was a reflex in the way that she reacted. But that was impossible. Astoria pivoted and a dagger spun dangerously through the air, between some trees. From where he stood, he couldn't see it as it lodged itself in its target, but he could hear it.

A man gargled and shouted in agony. The familiar sound of a heavy body slumping to the ground reached his ears and he realized that Astoria was not his enemy here. He listened carefully.

Others were enclosing on them, though how many he did not know. Fenris didn't like to get this close to his pursuers. He wasn't used to detecting just how many pairs of footsteps followed him – only that if he could hear them, he was too close.

A man staggered towards them, running through the jungle like a clumsy bull.

"Astoria," Fenris growled in his throat angrily, demanding an explanation as he lit up his lyrium, something that for the first time left him out of breath for a moment. The man entered the area and parried an immediately blow from Astoria's last dagger.

"Slavers," was all she said as she struggled, one weapon short. The man she fought wielded a sword and shield, which was not in her favor with her one dagger. Fenris leapt forward as the man's shield connected with her heavily and she fell back, but not before the man's pommel of his sword bashed heavily into Astoria's temple. Fenris had killed grown men with that very blow, and dread blossomed in the pit of his stomach as Astoria crumpled to the ground with an animalistic whimper.

He got there before the man delivered what would have been the killing blow, and with one sweep of his sword, the man slumped to the ground, choking as blood gushed from up and down his torso.

Fenris heard more around him – though how far they were he did not know. Astoria coughed on the jungle floor, clutching her head and groaning in serious pain. Fenris stood with his feet on either side of her, listening for the next attack.

And then it came, just as Astoria gasped and began crying out in pain, clutching her head as shivers racked through her body. Fenris swore as two men sprang from the surrounding forest. Something sharp and painful embedded itself in his shoulder but he hardly thought of it.

Fenris ran to the closest one, trying to draw the fight away from Astoria, who pitifully tried bringing herself to rest on her knees in the mud. Her body swayed with the effort as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to steady herself.

He was in a standoff. Two roguish men circled him like hungry dogs, their daggers drawn, one with a discarded bow on his back. They were smaller than Fenris, and leapt back from his sword, trying to gauge his sill. He smirked at one of them, challenging him.

The man chucked a dagger at him.

Fenris thanked whatever powers that be when he heard rather than felt the blade skim off his breastplate and fall with a thud into the mud. Fenris gave a feral growl and bounded towards the man and faded into a wraith, swinging his sword wildly. He was vaguely aware of Astoria's half-conscious groaning as one man fell in a bloody heap to his blade.

The other proved more difficult. Even then, Fenris was skilled, highly so and much more than his opponent. He saw no challenge in killing the man.

Only after they were dead did he full realize that an arrow was sticking out of his shoulder. He ignored it, however, and staggered to where Astoria lay crouched and trembling, her fingers shaking as they touched her head.

"Astoria?" Fenris' voice took on a worried tone as he knelt down in the mud beside her. "Venhedis. Astoria?"

His eyes flitted over her, trying to take everything in. Blood seemed to cover her. Panic overwhelmed him and the vast world of "what if" swallowed him whole. What if she was dying? He cupped her face in his hands, moving her trembling fingers away. "Astoria?" He leaned in, his voice growing louder. "Astoria?"

She blinked at him dazedly, but he didn't think she really _saw_ him the way a coherent person would. Her gaze was vacant, like she was already dead.

Fenris panicked. She was going to die. Blood seeped over his fingertips and he realized her ears were bleeding. She was going to die, he thought and again everything in him seemed to sink and drag his ability to breathe with it.

"No, Astoria, stay awake," he growled at her, fumbling with her leather armor so he could work on whatever wounds she had. He cursed through clenched teeth and ripped the armor away, revealing the thin tunic she wore beneath it.

The relief hit him and made everything numb and tingly for a few moments. Her tunic wasn't bloodied – always a good sign. Still, she trembled to the point of nearly convulsing and blood dripped from her ears.

But he was glad. If she hadn't immediately died from that blow to the head, then there was a good chance she would survive and recover. Fenris scooped her up by the shoulders and pulled her into his lap.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she shivered violently, awful moaning passing through her lips as if she was being tortured. Fenris knew there was nothing he could do for her – if she was going to die, she would die and if she was going to live, then he would do everything he could to help her recover. He told himself that he'd be fine if she died.

The thought disturbed him because he realized he was lying to himself. It was one of the few things he could think of coherently in that time of debilitating panic. She was the reason he was getting his memories back, she was a kindred spirit, she understood him. He curled over her and waited. If he was a god-fearing man, he'd probably be praying.

He clutched her to him and wiped away the blood that dripped down her jaw and towards her hair.

Ages passed. Fenris' calves were numb from kneeling in the mud for so long, his throat hoarse from trying to keep Astoria's attention. Eventually, her shaking slowly ebbed away until she lay in his arms limp.

"Astoria. Astoria stay awake."

Despite his prodding, her eyelids fluttered shut dreamily.

"Astoria," he growled. She didn't respond. He glanced at her ears – the blood had stopped by now, but that wasn't a comforting thought anyway. "Dammit, mellita, wake up."

At that she looked at him, half-consciously, but it was better than nothing. Mellita was what he had called her in a memory. He knew that it meant 'darling.' It wasn't a word he ever imagined himself using, but desperate times called for desperate measures and he had learned from Astoria that sometimes it was useful to be bold and improvise.

"Leto?" Her voice was a mere and nearly lifeless whisper, a thread of sound in the roaring of the forest. He wished the abomination was nearby. He could and would save her.

"Stay awake, Astor-"

She lifted a hand tentatively towards his face and Fenris snatched it, interlacing their fingers. "Astoria, don't sleep, you need to stay awake."

Her eyelids fluttered shut, her lashes thick and framing eyes that didn't exactly focus on anything. "No," he growled angrily, "faasta vas, Astoria."

Her fingers went limp in his hand. He kept her pinned to his chest as he leaned in towards her and planted his lips against her mouth. Cradling her head in his other hand, Fenris pulled away slowly and saw her blue eyes flitting over his face.

"Leto?" It was just a whisper, yet it made his breath hitch and his chest tighten.

Fenris made a rumbling noise in his throat before he leaned in and kissed her again, parting his lips and kissing her with a fevered, desperate attempt to keep her focused. She squeezed his hand and moaned into his mouth.

It was like a fire flared into life at that moment in the pit of his stomach. It was all-consuming. Fenris felt her hesitate for only a moment before trying to meet his kiss with equal fervor, but her reply was dizzied and weak. He knew she was trying, but in her state she was having immense difficulty.

Still, she squeezed his hand and gave a small moan when Fenris caught her bottom lip between his teeth gently. His heart hammered in his chest.

He _wanted_ her.

Astoria gasped and he released her lip. "Stay awake."

Her mouth formed a smile and she blinked at him blearily. "Fenris."

"Come on, get up." He eased her out of his lap and took her other hand in his. "Astoria, get up." He said softly, rising to his feet and tugging on her hands.

Astoria's head bobbed deliriously and it was a great effort on her part to rise to her feet. But Fenris knew the toughest part was over. If she could stand, she would live. Ignoring the sharp pain of the arrow embedded in his shoulder, he heaved her up to her feet.

Her head swam and she staggered, her knees buckling almost immediately. Fenris pulled her against him and held her there, still on her feet.

"Astoria, I need you to walk until I'm sure you're alright."

She blinked and groaned like a child who wanted to sleep a little longer. She bowed her head, her brow hitting his chest, on the edge of his armor. Fenris winced because he knew that hurt her. She groaned again and became a dead weight.

She was trying to lay down, but Fenris wouldn't let it happen.

"Astoria – I need you to fix my shoulder." He growled low in her ear.

Some kind of instinct in her prodded at her delirium, pushing through the barrier of coherence. Astoria's head rolled back and she managed to put some weight onto her feet after a moment. She blinked at him, confused.

"My shoulder, mellita."

She was staring at him, but not at his shoulder, at his eyes. "Y-you..."

"My shoulder. There's an arrow."

He twisted, still managing to hold her up.

She blinked at the arrow that stuck out of his shoulder, sizing it up with a delirious frown. "Oh, Leto," he heard her coo. "How...?"

"Fix it, mellita." He knew that it wasn't a good idea to have her try – she was drunk off pain and dizzy and could hardly stand. But he needed her to stay awake, at least until he was sure she wasn't going to die or go into a coma.

Astoria's head lolled but she seemed to be in the middle of a monumental effort to focus. "Not yet," she groaned, "I can't, I'll..." she took a long breath and her knees gave out just for a brief second, "hurt you."

Fenris frowned and laid one of her arms out over his shoulders, though one of them hurt. He managed to grit his teeth against the pain and focus on Astoria. His heart raced and he had blood all over him, but things were looking up.

"You're going to be fine," he said to her as he led her away from the bodies of the slavers, towards their camp. "You just need to rest."

She groaned in pain and tried pushing away from him. Her face conveyed panic as she scrambled out of his confused grip and fell on her hands and knees, retching.

Fenris shut his eyes and gathered up her thick hair, twisting it and placing it in the center of her back. He sighed and stood, looking around at the carnage. What had she done? How had she found the slavers? Why did she lead them to him?

As Astoria vomited, Fenris yanked the arrow out with a pained grunt and looted the bodies, wrenching Astoria's dagger from one of their chests. In total he found a few sovereigns, some jerky and vegetables and a few other useful items, but nothing too special. He went back to Astoria who was on her feet shakily, supporting herself against a banyan.

Fenris gave her a very slight smile. He had killed men with the blow she received. He was glad she didn't share their fate, not yet anyway.

She seemed more coherent, post-retching everything in her stomach, than before. She blinked at him, embarrassed and shivered thought the temperature was uncomfortably hot.

"Astoria." He stepped towards her, avoiding a certain spot on the ground, and pushed a lock of hair out of her face, trying to examine her eyes. She was actually looking at him, not past him.

"Le... Fenris."

He nodded. "Come on."

She staggered forward slightly when Fenris took her hand and began slowly leading her away towards camp.

"You're..." she mumbled, her head lolling slightly, "I... love you."

He was being pulled inside out. The air whooshed out of him but he didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her even though he wanted to. He wanted to point out that she wasn't even coherent, but no one had ever said that to him. As gone as she sounded, and even though he couldn't truthfully say the same back, it was a comforting thought that someone cared for him. Even if they cared more for Leto than Fenris.

"Come on, Astoria."

She stumbled into him but steadied herself. "I'm sorry."

Fenris glanced sidelong at her.

"I," she began again, her voice anguished, "you're hurt-"

"I took care of it."

Her knees buckled, and Fenris caught her with a frustrated noise emanating from his throat. "Walk for me."

She pushed on his good shoulder to steady herself. With amazing determination on her face, she walked, frowning and groaning at the long (ten minute) walk before them.

Eventually Fenris gave up. He knocked her legs out from under her and carried her back to camp. At this point, he was sure she could sleep and be fine.

Before he got back to the camp she was deep in her dreams.


	33. Recovery

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Fallon-Idalia and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! You guys are so motivating!**

**I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get up - I've been so busy with senior week, and I'm graduating on Saturday so I don't suspect there will be another chapter up by then.**

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><p>It was sometime in the middle of the night that Astoria stirred finally, her head resting on the ground within Fenris' reach. He entertained himself by twirling one of her curls in his fingers, watching it lose its shape as he tugged gently on it and let it curl back up into itself.<p>

The fact was, he was still worried, even as she slept. Every time her breathing came in particularly heavy or light, or if she mumbled something, he paid rapt attention and listened and waited. Her condition still could change – he was waiting for a seizure that never came.

He had never done this before for anyone. He didn't take care of people, it wasn't in him. So for him to be sitting beside her and paying such close attention, it was unnerving, but he didn't stop.

"Fenris?" He heard her call out dreamily, her fingers curling in the dirt. She sounded panicked, but made no move to get up.

"I'm here," he said, letting his fingers scratch her scalp gently, his gauntlets still on in case something unwelcome found them. She turned her head towards him and he smiled at the relief he saw wash over her in the smoldering firelight.

"Wh – what happened?"

"You nearly died."

She blinked and tentatively reached for him. He let her take his hand and nodded. "You came running at me with four slavers all at your back. One of them hit you in the head and you... I think you'll be fine in a few days."

Shes sighed in relief. "My head kills. Are you... alright?"

"I am."

"I... I don't remember it."

Fenris frowned. It was probably for the best, since she confessed something to him that he was sure she hadn't meant to. Besides, he knew that her saying she loved him was meant for Leto, not Fenris.

"When we have decent light, may I ask that you look at my shoulder?"

Concern showed on her face and she winced as she struggled to sit up. Her head lolled slightly and the breath whooshed from her mouth, but she steadied herself and looked at him. "Which one?"

"My left."

Astoria went and knelt beside him, her knees touching his hip. "You... you need to take your armor off."

Fenris went to work and Astoria gazed away at the small, smoldering fire to lend him some privacy. Fenris peeled the tunic from his body, wincing as it snagged on the dried blood on his shoulder. He leaned forward and Astoria turned back to him slowly.

He sucked in a breath accidentally when her fingers touched him, one hand on his bicep and the other on his ribs. "Hmm..." she hummed softly, leaning in close to get a good look at it. "Oh, Fenris... we need to clean it out."

A few minutes later, Fenris had his fists clenched on his lap as Astoria scrubbed the dried blood away and rubbed a small amount of ointment into the wound which stung unpleasantly but Fenris didn't make a sound.

Her fingers trailed down the curve of his spine and he suddenly felt like she wasn't tending to the wound anymore. He looked at her levelly, and saw that tears brimmed her eyes.

She noticed him watching her and she gave him a polite smile and drew her hand back slowly. "Oh, Fenris."

"I do not want your pity."

"It isn't pity that I feel."

Fenris narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

"I was just thinking... your mother would be able to fix this up so easily, it'd be all healed in a couple days."

Fenris shut his eyes as she squeezed his arm gently and planted her lips on the corner of his shoulder for a short moment. Fenris went suddenly still, but took a small breath, trying to calm himself. She pulled away from his shoulder and chuckled. "You _kissed_ me, I remember."

He forced his smirk away, keeping his eyes shut. "I was trying to keep you awake."

"It worked, right?"

"It did. For a bit, anyway."

She dropped her hand and stretched out on the ground beside him, but not touching.

"Do you remember what happened before you almost got us both killed?" He asked, crossing his legs at the ankles and picking up his tunic to put it back on.

Astoria sighed and rubbed her temple. "I... I saw the slavers off on the road. They were by themselves and talking about the rebellion – I guess they're after Eshan and Garsen. There were six of them, and I killed two of them before they knew what hit them. Then they chased me and I thought I could lose them in the forest."

"You do foolish things." He said with a frown, shooting her an accusatory look. "If I wasn't there, they would have killed you."

Astoria nodded. "I couldn't let them get away, Fenris."

"Don't do it again. Not alone. I don't need to remind you again that you can't save Lysander if you're dead."

He wondered what he would do if she did die. Would he go on to find the boy or go back to Kirkwall? He was sure the child was dead, and if he wasn't, then his fate was probably worse than death. But Fenris couldn't say this to her.

He stared at her levelly and seriously until she gave a nod. "Of course." She laid there for a moment, averting her gaze to rest on the smoldering embers of the fire. "I wonder if Varania is trying to save him."

"Do you think she would?"

Astoria made a noncommittal sound in her throat, unsure. "I believe she has been trying. She must feel incredibly guilty for everything she's done."

Fenris scoffed and gritted his teeth, stilling when Astoria curled her soft fingers around his thigh and squeezed gently.

He still wasn't used to her small but affectionate gestures, though he enjoyed them on some level that seemed to grow more and more with each day. It worried him; the growing attraction, attachment and feelings he had for her. He found himself glad that Astoria was who she was. If he was to have a wife from before, he was glad that it was her; kind, understanding, strong. Above all, she didn't trap him. She told him time and time again that she would accomplish what she set out to do with or without him, that she could survive without his help.

Fenris was worried, though. If Lysander was actually dead – if the information about Varania was not real – he didn't know what he would do. Would he stay with Astoria, try to build a life with her or leave and go back to his purposeless life of survival and paranoia?

Fenris dropped his hand onto hers where it rested on his lap. He curled his slender fingers over hers so that his fingertips pressed against her palm. She smiled and sighed, wearily dropping down to the ground, and was soon asleep.

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><p>In two weeks time, the landscape had changed drastically. The thick jungles gave way to more farmlands and orchards, rolling hills that reminded them slightly of the Silent Plains, but with more life and no dust. They traveled north, straddling the beaches and the farms. They stole fruit from the farms and camped at night on the beaches, out of sight.<p>

It had taken several days for Astoria to achieve full coherence, but when she did she was back to her old self and sparred with Fenris. It was painstaking for him because he knew that even the slightest injury to her head could prove dangerous in the wake of such a traumatic injury. So in turn, Fenris was extremely careful and didn't let her fall.

Sparring on the beach was interesting, and Fenris found that he enjoyed it. Everything took slightly more effort with the way the sand absorbed his weight. He realized he had gotten soft in his recovery of his broken ribs, which by now were fully healed. They got sand everywhere in their armor and clothing and hair and would have to swim to get it out, but Fenris didn't mind.

"You're being too careful, Fenris," she chided when Fenris caught her immediately after knocking her legs out from under her. He stood her back up on her feet and smirked.

"You're recovering from a head injury. Did you forget?"

"I'm sure I'm fine," she planted her hands on her hips. "Come on. Besides, we're on sand. It's soft."

Fenris smirked and shook his head. "Astoria..." but she was already running at him. They caught each other by the shoulders and Astoria pushed his arms off her, letting her body hit his. She was trying to get him off-balance, but Fenris had otherworldly skill in regards to staying on his feet. He pinned her arms at her side and eased her to her knees in the sand, crouched behind her.

His breath came in fast and shallow against her ear. He paused before letting her get back up.

"Fenris, I thought I was getting better at this."

He chuckled and planted his feet shoulder-width apart in the sand. The lapping of the waves on the beach resounded pleasantly behind Astoria, who faced him with a frustrated frown. The fire to their side cast a dim glow on their faces.

She was beautiful. That was a truth that became more and more difficult for Fenris to ignore everyday.

"You are getting better, Astoria."

"Then why can't I win?"

Fenris smirked. "You will, soon."

She charged him and this time they both hardly budged for a moment, their feet digging in the sand. Fenris groaned for a moment and then sidestepped. Astoria stumbled, and he tried to catch her but she fell before he could grab her.

"Venhedis," he cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to let her fall, not with her head injury. He went to Astoria on her knees and put a hand on her shoulder. "Asto-"

She tricked him. Her hands flew up and a moment later, because Fenris was too surprised to react, she was straddling his abdomen in the sand. His lyrium pulsed dimly for a quick moment before he relaxed, a chuckle on his lips. She curled her fingers around his shoulders with a grin.

"You tricked me," his voice came out low and husky in the night, and he could have sworn he saw Astoria shiver slightly. Unsure what to do with his hands, he dropped them onto her legs, just above the knees.

She definitely did shiver, this time he was sure.

Fenris enjoyed these simple, small gestures. He didn't know how to be affectionate, and more importantly he didn't know how to be affectionate without taking their "friendship" or whatever it was to the next level. If he committed to anything more than what they had, then he'd be signing up for fatherhood. That's how he saw it.

Fenris didn't half-ass anything. He thought everything through fully – always remembered the details, always had every scenario planned. It was how he had survived.

Still, he was a man with drives and desires, as much as he tried to suppress them and pretend that he didn't. And she was beautiful. She was a kindred spirit in a way – lacking his short temper, deep-rooted resentment and hatred. She understood him, she knew him from before. Where his feelings stood with her, he wasn't sure, but he wanted something more. Just what exactly, he didn't know.

The moment stretched. Astoria began to pull her hands from his shoulders, breathless from the sparring with a proud grin on her face.

"I didn't think you'd fall for it," she said with a calm voice. He was secretly glad that she wasn't teasing him.

"You shouldn't have fallen in the first place. Your head, remember?"

"Oh, please. Um, I'm..." Astoria quickly got off of Fenris. Even in the dim light he noticed the rosy tint on her cheeks. Fenris pulled himself to his feet and brushed the sand off of him.

Astoria looked out at the ocean; the steady crashing of the waves on the beach. In the pale moonlight the dark ocean went on forever. Above them, the sky was bright with stars and free of clouds.

"I'm going to... swim, for a bit."

Fenris gave a nod, his throat tightening up for a reason he couldn't understand. She gave him a sheepish smile and went towards the water, stepping into the darkness where the firelight couldn't reach. Fenris went to the fire and pulled out his stack of drawings.


	34. The Moon and the Sea Invited us in

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Arquise Fallon-Idalia, Spadequeen and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! You guys are fantastic!**

**This is a continuation of the last chapter. Now I'm certain that there won't be another before Saturday. Sorry, the last one I just... didn't feel right leaving you guys there. Please let me know your thoughts, especially if you completely disagree with what is coming - seriously, it's definitely good to get an outside perspective on this.**

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><p>Astoria stood a good distance away, shedding her armor and clothing in favor of bare skin against the salty spray of the warm sea. He could hardly see her at all in the dark. He could only make out the vague blotch of darkness on her back where her hair fell loose down her spine. Fenris took out the drawing of their wedding, looking away from her with his neck flushing in a blush as if he had been caught staring. It was a drawing he didn't look at often when compared with the rest. It was the most beautiful drawing that Varania had done – it was whimsical and romantic, but it was personal beyond a level Fenris wanted to admit.<p>

He tilted the drawing towards the fire so he could see it carefully. In the distance, he could hear Astoria descending into the waves. In the drawing he had the brightest smile – looking so adoringly at Astoria that it was truly astonishing. It was so unlike him.

He saw the leather bracelet on her left wrist, the bracelet which he had crafted in order to have a reason to talk to her. It was the first time he had noticed it in the drawing.

His breath hitched at the sight of the leather braid, the one he had in one of his pouches. His fingers grazed over the drawing.

A splash.

Fenris' eyes flitted towards the sea. He couldn't see her in the rolling waves under the moonlight, but he knew she was there. She always went swimming during the night, and she always returned. Since they had emerged from the forest he had gone swimming as well, but never at the same time as her.

Some time passed, and he sighed and folded the drawing back up on the familiar creases with ease, and put the stack back in his pouch on his belt, which lay in the sand. He sat for a while in silence, keeping an ear out for Astoria but keeping his eyes trained on the small flames of the fire.

Traveling with Astoria brought with it a solace that Fenris hadn't found anywhere else. Having someone there who didn't impose on him was a comfort he hadn't thought he would ever enjoy.

Astoria was a woman he knew he could trust, but couldn't bring himself to do so until after the Minrathous business was over. There was still the slight possibility of her betrayal, and that possibility was enough to rip at whatever kindness he could provide.

A few minutes later, Fenris stood and squared his shoulders with his palms against his thighs. He turned towards the shore and walked, keeping his eyes low so as to not catch a glimpse of her naked if she weren't swimming.

"Fenris?"

He hadn't expected to hear her so soon. He looked up and saw her, already out of the water with a tunic and breeches on, to his relief. She was leaning over and gathering up the rest of her clothes, her hair dripping down into the cool sand.

"Uh... h-hello."

"Going for a swim?"

He tried to nod, but he couldn't. Astoria took a couple steps towards him and stood beside him, turning and looking out at the ocean under the dark sky. "Isn't it beautiful?" She asked, her voice dreamlike.

Fenris looked at her sidelong and felt his breath hitch. He hated how disarming she was.

"When I was little... before I ran off with the traveling minstrels and found myself sold into slavery... I used to go to the ocean all the time. Of course where I lived there were cliffs, but it didn't stop me. I always thought I was a... dolphin in a past life, or something, though I never saw them until-"

Fenris threaded his fingers through hers and he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"...until you freed me." She took a long breath. "Before... you know... when we were together... you said that if we were ever freed, we would go to Ferelden. We'd go back to my home in Highever and live by the sea and I'd make necklaces out of shells, and you'd work at the docks repairing ships and unloading boats."

Fenris turned his head to look at her. The pale moonlight cast the smallest amount of light on her and made her new tan seem light and her brown hair seem darker than it was. It wasn't supposed to be flattering, but somehow everything was flattering for her. He had even liked the way the dirt had caked itself into her skin in the Silent Plains.

"You had never seen the ocean. Well, you had, a few times, but you never remembered it because you were so young. You were fascinated by it. You always wanted me to talk about it, describe it to you. Eventually I found a conch shell, a big one, in Mavion's estate. I told you where it was, and you and I went to it one night. I made you put it to your ear." With her free hand she imitated the action, and Fenris felt his chest tightening.

"Your face, Fenris, when you listened to it... I've never seen someone so... fascinated by something."

He felt his lips twitching towards a smile. Astoria chuckled and shook her head, dropping her hand and giving his hand a small squeeze, rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand.

She was so kind to him. It embarrassed him that he didn't know how to return such kindness to her. Was he that broken of a man? Fenris sighed and decided to take a blind leap of faith.

He turned suddenly, his free hand cupping the back of her neck as he kissed her. The saltwater in her hair dripped over his fingers as he untangled his other hand from hers and awkwardly put it on her hip.

A surprised gasp sounded from her and Fenris felt one side of his mouth curling up towards a smirk, even as he kissed her long and deep. Her hands went under his arms and to the back of his shoulders with a need he had never felt before.

Fenris felt the familiar heat building in the pit of his stomach, a storm of desire brewing inside him that was common these days. He pulled her flush against him, answering her small moan with his own low and quiet growl. His fingers tightened on her hip.

Their tongues met and Fenris hummed in his throat, nearly dizzy with the pleasure.

Never had he been touched like this before. In his time under Danarius' control he had sexual experiences with others because he had been ordered to. But this... he had control over this instead. He initiated the contact, and something about that was so empowering and fulfilling.

Fenris broke away and took a breath, exhilarated.

He dropped his head so their foreheads touched and for a few moments they just stood, breathing hard.

"Fenris, I..." Astoria put her palms on the front of his shoulders, "I need you to understand something."

He opened his eyes and pulled away from her slightly. "What is it?"

Astoria took a long breath and nodded reassuringly, but he figured it was for herself. "I... I am a mother before anything else. I know that... you probably aren't ready to be a father, and I'm sure you don't want to be with... me, but I just need you to know that if you want me, you get Lysander too. I won't abandon my little boy. If it comes down to it. If ever I had to choose."

Fenris watched her in the dark carefully, his brow knit together. It was difficult to see her.

"I know. I never doubted that."

"Alright." She took a long, relieved breath. "I needed to get that out there. If you are... using me..."

He frowned, anxiety welling up inside of him. "What?"

She swallowed and steeled herself. "Fenris... I just need to know what your intentions are. It would be cruel of you to lay with me and then lea-"

"Astoria-" it sounded like a warning, as if he wanted to stop her there before she continued. He didn't want to have this conversation, it was too personal and intimate.

"No, Fenris, let me finish, please. If I don't say it now I never will." She squeezed his arms gently. "Please don't lead me on if you know that you're going to leave as soon as I get my boy back. You don't know how heartbroken I was when you left before. To have you here again and be so different than you were, it kills me, but I deal with it. But if you are not being genuine, then you need to stop."

Fenris rolled his eyes and growled. "Astoria, I'm not... using you."

She nodded, her seemingly fleeting breakdown subsiding. "Alright. I'm sorry then, I just had to tell you. You need to know."

Fenris let go of her hips and turned to go back to the fire, irritated that she was putting him in that position – to choose when it felt so soon. He understood her concerns, certainly, but he couldn't make a decision just yet. He wanted her, he knew that. But did he want a son? Fenris had assumed that he would be an awful father. He had assumed that he would have killed any child he fathered in a sudden overreaction, like he nearly had with Astoria.

He understood that the boy came before anything else for her. Lysander was the reason Astoria sought him out in the first place. She didn't do it out of love for him, he knew that - but that didn't mean she didn't love him. In fact, she probably didn't seek him out _because_ of her love for him – she didn't want to bring chaos into his life. The thought made him sick with regret.

Fenris couldn't tell her that he felt the same way. Sure, he had feelings for her on some level. But to call it love? That was beyond his capacity at the moment, and he figured it would always be beyond him. It was too intimate a thing to say. It's what Hawke and Merrill said to each other, what Aveline and Donnic said to each other.

But he had loved her once, he was sure of it. The distinctive line between Fenris and Leto was becoming more and more blurred with each new memory, each touch and tug of a dormant subconscious that threatened to emerge from the depths of his mind. Fenris wondered how he would change if he suddenly began remembering _everything_. It was such an enticing, exciting and frightening idea that he rarely allowed himself to indulge in that fantasy.

Fenris and Astoria went back to the camp and she warmed herself by the fire, the salt drying on her skin. He frowned as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She didn't look at him, didn't speak to him, and he wondered how she felt. Was she ashamed or embarrassed, speaking so intimately to him?

She settled in the sand and turned her back to him, but he could tell by her breathing that she didn't fall asleep for a long time after that.


	35. The Crown of Flowers

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby, Arquise, Fallon-Idalia, Spadequeen and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! You guys are fantastic!**

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><p>Astoria's hand shot out and her fingers grasped his arm.<p>

"Fenris... we're here."

He looked up from his gauntlets, where he was cleaning out caked in dirt from the crevices with a rag. His jade eyes flitted briefly over the landscape before falling to rest on Astoria's shocked expression.

In front of them sprawled rolling hills with thick grass and orchards, farms and animals grazing, shepherded by farmers. The road they walked on was littered with mud puddles, soaked from the rains. To the west the edge of a forest hung to the boundaries of the farms.

"We're about an hour from... where I lived."

Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat. His mother had lived there. His sister and son had lived there. Danarius had gone there, looking for him. He was close to that place. He was close to his mother's grave.

Fenris stopped in his tracks and felt his anxiety skyrocket. Concern in Astoria's eyes met his own gaze, and he wavered for a moment where he stood. He wasn't considering turning around and leaving anymore, though he knew he could have. But it was taking a while for him to work up the courage to follow.

This is what he had wanted, he reminded himself. He took a long breath and gave her a brief nod and together they went down the road.

* * *

><p>Astoria's time estimate was correct. An hour later, she was leading him up a small dirt path that ran along a large field of crops towards a home. A wooden barn in the distance rested on the edge of the farm, close to the treeline.<p>

Astoria, Varania, Sharna and Lysander had all lived in that barn, Fenris knew. All the family he had in the world. This had been their home.

A few elves working in the field eyed them curiously, and another came barging out of the house.

"Come no closer!" The elf shouted from the steps of the home, a hand behind his back. Fenris frowned and Astoria squeezed his arm encouragingly.

"My name is Astoria, surely you have been told that I would be coming here?"

The elf tilted his head and considered for a moment. "Oh! Astoria, yes. I remember," the elf approached them, sheathing a sword that he had just been hiding behind his back. "My name is Norval, Hollan put me in charge of this little hideaway since Iriwen died."

"She died? How?" The elf came to a stop in front of them, his hazel eyes flitting between Astoria and Fenris.

"Some slavers recognized her in Minrathous. A shame to lose her."

"Certainly." Astoria frowned. "Oh, excuse me, this is Fenris. Fenris, Norval."

They shook hands quickly and Fenris felt the man's eyes lingering on his markings.

"Pleasure to meet you both. Eshan said to keep the barn open for you, so it's all yours until you two can get into the city."

Astoria sighed with a relief. "Thank you, that was kind."

"Thank Eshan. He said that you lived in that barn?"

"For about eight years, yes."

"Heh. Well, come on inside, you two look thirsty."

* * *

><p>The day passed quickly. Fenris and Astoria bathed at separate times in the house and discussed the rebellion with Norval. He explained to them that they had three weeks before the meeting of the magisters, and that they would need to wait a few days before someone could sneak them into Minrathous.<p>

In the afternoon, the two of them gathered up some food and wine that Norval offered them and crossed the fields to the barn where Astoria had lived. He was nervous approaching it, recognizing the shape of it from the drawing of Lysander with a slingshot and Astoria.

He watched Astoria with scrutiny as they ascended the slight slope through the field, between rows of crops, towards the barn. She held the bowl of food that Norval had given them, her steps hastening as if in excitement but her face unreadable.

When they reached the barn, Astoria opened the large door and the afternoon sunlight flooded inside. Fenris followed behind her and looked around at where his family had lived.

It was small, but free of animals – more of a storage place than a place for animals. Half of the barn had been converted into a small apartment with one general room with three beds. Fenris sucked in a breath. One for Varania, one for Sharna and one for Astoria.

There was a table set against the wall lengthwise between two of the beds. Bowls, plates and utensils sat atop it. Astoria put the bowl of food down and sighed, looking around. Fenris spotted a small slingshot on the floor against the wall beside one of the beds. He went to it and picked it up.

It was a child's. It was his child's slingshot, the one from the drawing where Lysander was shooting at something.

Astoria sucked in a breath. Fenris glanced at her and gave her a faint smile. "This is Lysander's?"

"Yes." She answered quickly.

Fenris handed it to her and looked around more, his eyes bright with interest. A chest sat against the opposite wall, beside the lone bed. He went to it and cleared his throat.

"May I?"

Astoria was still examining the slingshot sadly. When her blue eyes flitted to his she nodded.

Fenris sat on the edge of the bed and opened the chest as Astoria put the slingshot down and began going to work cutting up the vegetables and fruits, preparing dinner.

Fenris took a breath and looked in the opened chest. He saw mostly clothing piled in it, with a small wreath of dried flowers and twine, with ribbons running through it. He picked up the wreath delicately and examined it, some flower petals falling apart at the touch.

* * *

><p><em>The dim candlelight lit her face in a soft orange glow, flickering and making the shadows her eyelashes cast on her brow dance with delight. Astoria was gorgeous in her simple green dress that was borrowed from one of the other elves and her floral crown atop her flowing curls.<em>

_ "Leto," she said softly, her blue eyes swimming with joy. He took her hands in his and smiled brightly._

_ "My love."_

_ Astoria and Varania exchanged a quick look, his sister giving Astoria an encouraging smile. Then Astoria smiled to her right, where Leto's mother stood looking bright-eyed and cheerful. Leto felt his heart flutter at the sight. Sharna never looked this happy. She was always going hungry, she was always exhausted and trying to keep her mischievous son out of trouble._

_ She wouldn't have to worry about him anymore after a few weeks. Leto felt dizzy at the thought. Looking at Astoria, he couldn't imagine leaving her in a month. She'd either be a widow or he'd be gone forever._

_ This was ridiculous. It was his wedding, he should be enjoying himself. But he couldn't, not when he knew that it would all be over soon._

_ "Astoria, are you sure you want to do this? With the competit-"_

_ "Yes,," she answered immediately, concern clear on her face, "please, Leto. I want to marry you. You're the only one for me. If a month is all we have left, I will live it as your wife. Please. Don't ruin this night."_

_ A tear slid down her cheek and he leaned in and kissed it gingerly. "I'm sorry, mellita." He felt his mother flicking at his shoulder. He tasted the salt in her tear and frowned, pulling away and squeezing her hands._

_ "Leto, not yet. You can't kiss her yet, little moon," his mother said with love in her voice._

_ He smiled and looked at his mother, who stood a bit shorter than him, a bit shorter than Astoria even. Her warm green eyes were on Astoria, her to-be daughter-in-law._

_ Pride and love welled in his heart at the sight of Sharna gazing at Astoria so lovingly. He was so grateful that she was marrying them. According to Sharna, Astoria was perfect for him. He agreed, but it was nice to know that his mother was on his side._

_ "Leto," she began, putting her palm on top of their interlaced fingers, "my little moon. Do you vow to hold Astoria's heart above your own, for all your days?"_

_ Leto shared a look with Astoria and smiled. "I do."_

_ Sharna grinned, her voice edged with excitement as she continued. "Do you vow to never cast her away, to share the beauty of every day that you may with her, before you become one once again with the earth? Do you vow to give her all that you have regardless of where the road leads you? Do you believe that you are stronger together, than you are alone?"_

_ Leto nodded, filled with conviction. "I do."_

_ "Astoria," she gave her a loving smile and squeezed their hands slightly, "the beautiful, blue sea to complement the moon." Her eyes flashed towards Leto before she repeated the same questions._

_ Leto's heart stopped and he held his breath just before each time Astoria answered with a sure, "I do."_

_ "May you two children of the blessed earth, may you spend your years with joy, may your tears be few and may you find freedom in each other's embrace. Your joining is now blessed, may you grow to love the journey together."_

_ Sharna took her hand off their joined hands and Leto dragged Astoria to him, kissing her with love threatening to overflow from him, tears at the edges of his eyes. Astoria held onto him tightly, laughing in joy._

_ "Ma'arlath," Leto muttered against her lips, his arms wrapping tight around her waist._

_ "Ma'arlath, emma sa'lath," she answered with a whoosh of her breath leaving her when he squeezed her tight against him. Varania threw small white flower petals at them, and it looked like snow raining from the sky when they pulled away from each other._

_ They were behind the stables, trying to stay quiet in the dim candlelight. Astoria was an image of pure joy, and it warmed his heart to see her so._

_ "I'm sorry this wasn't the wedding you wanted, with music and dancing and wine," he held her tight and whispered into her ear as Varania and Sharna hugged each other._

_ "Oh, Leto, this is perfect. And besides, I have wine."_

_ Leto chuckled, wiping the tears at the corners of his eyes away. "Oh, Astoria, I love you dearly."_

_ "Now, you two," Sharna said with chuckle, clasping her hands in front of her. "Go inside, I don't want someone to find us out here. I will see you two newlyweds in the morning. Congratulations, little moon," she leaned in and planted her lips on Leto's cheek, and then on Astoria's, "and you too, my dear."_

_ "Thank you," Astoria said with an elated grin, pulling away from Leto and wrapping his mother in her arms. "Thank you so much."_

_ "Oh, don't thank me. Thank you for being the way you are and being so good to my boy."_

_ "He deserves the best, Sharna."_

_ "And he has the best, dear."_

_ Leto rolled his eyes at Varania with a smirk on his face, feigning embarrassment. She chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. Leto wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a bear hug. "I love you, sister." He muttered, pressing his cheek against the top of her bright red hair._

_ "Oh, shush you big mabari. I love you too."_

_ She squirmed away and slapped him quickly on the shoulder before embracing Astoria. "Congratulations, Astoria," she told her, "you are a saint for marrying him."_

_ Astoria laughed and buried her face in the crook of Varania's neck. "Thank you, Varania."_

_ "Now, go enjoy your wedding night." Varania chuckled as she pulled away from Astoria._

_ Astoria and Leto shared a look. He was burning with desire, and it was taking all of his self-control to keep from ravaging her right there. He was a married man now._

_ "Come on, my dear wife." He took her hand in his and very nearly dragged her off to his family's apartment, leaving Varania and Sharna to clean up and blow out the candles. They would be staying somewhere else tonight, giving the two the privacy they needed._

_ The rounded around the stables, chuckled and planting quick kisses on each other. Leto scooped her up into his arms and ran, ignoring Astoria's yelp of surprise. He nearly kicked open the door to their small apartment and laid her down gently on the mattress that they both had been sleeping on for a year._

_ It had been decorated with flower petals. Not his cup of tea, but he didn't mind. Astoria giggled as he positioned his weight on top of her._

_ "You get more beautiful everyday," he growled, moving his mouth hungrily to her neck, trailing kisses of varying intensity up and down her skin. Astoria shivered beneath him and chuckled._

_ "And you're a man now. Look at those shoulders." Her fingers danced up his shoulder and to his jaw. "You are incredibly handsome, Leto. You make my knees weak."_

_ He smiled against the hollow of her throat. "I'm going to do everything I can to get free. When I do, I'll find you, mellita. And then you can bear my children and we can live to be old and fat."_

_ He knew it was cruel of him to give her this false hope of his freedom, but he wanted to make her happy tonight above all other nights. He didn't want her to remember her wedding night as the night he told her they only had a month left._

_ Astoria gasped in mock surprise. "Oh, Leto – children? As in more than one? I thought we agreed on one."_

_ She was playing along with him, indulging in his fantasy even though she knew better. Oh how he loved her for it. He hummed against her throat, breathing in her flowery scent like it was the last time._

_ "Yes, a little girl. With your curls and your eyes. Hopefully all of your features, actually. I'd feel sorry for a girl that looked like me."_

_ She chuckled again, squirming slightly at the vibration of his hum against her neck. "And what would you name her, my dear?"_

_ Leto smiled and planted a kiss just under her ear. "I don't think I could come up with a name that rivals Astoria in all its beauty. You'd have to name her." He put an arm under her which made her arch her back involuntarily towards him and he kissed her collarbone. "I can see her now. A little girl running around in dresses with flowers in her curls."_

_ Astoria laughed. "You've lost your mind, my dear. Any child of yours would go wrestle in mud and flick rocks at unsuspecting people."_

_ Leto guffawed and nibbled on her neck, making her squirm and giggle beneath him._

_ "There is wine, my love, courtesy of Mavion's vast cellar," she said and Leto reveled in the vibration of her throat._

_ "I'm craving something entirely different right now, my wife."_

_ "Oh?"_

_ He smirked and rolled onto his arm that was under her, using his other hand to inch her dress up her leg. He crashed his mouth against hers eagerly. "I am a happy man, Astoria. Thank you for marrying me."_

_ She smiled, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. He didn't let her respond, instead pressing his lips against hers again, his desire burning hot and his love burning bright._

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><p><em>"Ma'arlath" = I love you<em>

_"Emma sa'lath" = My only love_


	36. Sharna's Grave

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby (I hope your computer gets fixed), Arquise, Fallon-Idalia, Spadequeen and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! You guys are always fantastic!**

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><p>The world as he knew it spun around him.<p>

Fenris stared at the wreath – no, the crown – in his hands as the memory ended but did not disappear or fade from his mind's eye. His eyes fluttered shut as he grasped onto the memory with everything he had, and relived every detail distinctively, drawing it out and allowing himself the pleasure of indulging in such a thing. He focused on the words, the voices, the touch and feel, the mood and atmosphere of the memory.

It was a beautiful gift, that he could remember this now, and he knew it.

He vaguely heard Astoria preparing dinner for a few minutes before her footsteps approached and he felt a feather-light touch on his shoulder. He snapped back to attention and looked at her, eyes wide with fascination.

They shared this memory now. He could remember marrying her. This realization seemed to validate him and Astoria in his own eyes. He didn't feel so foolish anymore in following her into Minrathous. He tried to force a smile as he looked at her in a new light.

She held a glass of wine out to him, which he took with unsteady hands and put the crown down on his lap.

"I..." he considered telling her all that he had seen, but then thought against it, at least for the time being. He needed time to process, to decide what it meant for him. "Thank you."

She smiled and turned away, going back to the dinner preparations. Fenris sighed sadly, his fingers trailing softly over the crown of flowers and ribbons, before taking a long and much-needed sip of the wine and shifting his gaze to Astoria.

She had rolled up her leathers, revealing her smooth calves and her gloves were discarded on the table. Her brown curls were tied up in a messy bun, exposing the soft skin of her neck.

She began swaying on her feet as she started to hum a song, so quiet that it could have been mistaken for something else – chatter in the house at the base of the farm, birds singing in the forest. Her head rocked on her shoulders as she hummed what he imagined was a beautiful song while she chopped carrots. There was something so domestic, so calming about this that he wished he had lived a life like this.

They were in a building which only they were inhabiting as if it were their own home. It rested on top of a gently sloping hill overlooking a beautiful farm. Here he was, for the first time with the woman whom he actually remembered marrying, and she was making dinner and he was sipping wine, sitting on a bed. Anyone from the outside looking in would think they didn't have a care in the world.

This felt so right for him, like a piece of him was being put in its long-lost place.

Fenris finished his wine quickly and placed the glass gently on the ground before putting the crown on the bed beside him. He wondered whose bed he was sitting on – was it Varania's once, or perhaps his mother's?

He stretched, once on his feet, and stepped silently towards her. A loose strand of her hair fell down her back, the top of which was exposed and tanned from the blazing summer sun.

Once directly behind her, Fenris put his palms carefully, tentatively on her shoulders. She went tense under his unexpected touch, but didn't turn to face him or ask him what under-all-that-was-good-and-holy-by-the-Maker he was doing.

Fenris skimmed his palms lightly down her arms to her elbows, bowing his head slightly to better smell her lavender scented hair. He took his hands from her elbows and put them lightly on her hips. He pressed his cheek gently to the side of her head and shut his eyes, breathing in her feminine, floral smell.

They stood like that for a few moments before Astoria seemed to relax under his unusual touch, going back to her food preparation while he stayed there with his hands on her hips, watching.

He wanted to ask her about the memory, talk about it in detail, but he was amazed to have that image of his old self. He needed time to reflect on it, to decide if it was something he wanted to share. He remembered hugging Varania, even, telling her that he loved her.

How would he kill her now, if he saw her in Minrathous?

He had promised so many things to Astoria, he had made those vows, in front of his own mother. His mother, oh, now she had a personality and a face, and a nice voice and a warm embrace to match his idea of her.

Fenris had a lot to consider, and he knew he couldn't do it in front of her.

"Astoria, may I look at your... drawings?"

"Of course." She stepped out of his light grasp and rifled through her pack and handed it to him, also giving him the rest of the bottle of wine. He smiled upon seeing two more bottles on the table beside her.

"I'll be outside," he said quietly, stepping away from her and turning away. He certainly had a lot to think about.

* * *

><p>Fenris sat against the barn, watching the sun set towards the west, dipping low into the blazing sky. The fields were golden under the beautiful light, with only the sound of birds and roosters far in the distance to disturb the warm, humid afternoon.<p>

He gazed at a drawing of Astoria, Sharna and Lysander. The boy was still a baby, with a thin mop of dark hair and chubby legs. He snickered at the drawing, where Lysander sat on the very table Astoria was preparing dinner on. Astoria was sniffing a glass of wine and holding a finger covered in goo out to Lysander. The baby had a thrilled expression on his face, and Sharna laughed as she looked on, an arm across Astoria's back, her hand resting on her hip as she leaned her head on Astoria's shoulder lovingly.

Fenris felt himself smiling, even laughing to himself quietly as he realized that the little boy was eating a the gooey filling of Astoria's delicious apple pie.

The love in which the two women looked at the child was almost chilling to him. He had never experienced such a thing, at least that he knew of. Varania had captured it so perfectly, and he realized that he could trust Varania's depiction of his life and the people that had been in it.

He could remember marrying Astoria.

The pure joy he felt, the pride that swelled in him like a balloon, was overwhelming and he loved every second of it. He felt his lips tugging back towards a smile as he imagined what things must have been like between them for him to be so childish and adoring with Astoria.

And then she started singing in Arcanum, the lovely sound of her voice drifting out to reach him. He had heard bards sing that very song at Danarius' parties, but the way she sang it didn't bring back any terrible memories.

Fenris hummed along very quietly to himself, because he knew the words. The song was about a seaport, a ship sailing off into the vast and open blue with the intent on exploration. It was an old song, usually accompanied by a light guitar and slow dancing.

Fenris took a long swig from the bottle of wine and folded the drawing up, moving onto the next one.

The next one was of only Lysander. He was a toddler with plump cheeks and bright, big eyes. His dark hair was beginning to grow long, or what Fenris imagined was long for a child. He was gazing at something, something next to Varania while she drew him with complete and utter fascination in his eyes. His lips formed a huge smile, revealing tiny baby teeth.

Fenris chuckled, imagining what Lysander was watching. And then Astoria came outside and put a plate of food on the ground beside him.

She laughed when she saw the drawing. "Oh, my baby."

Fenris smirked. "What is he watching?"

"Varania was making a ball of ice in her hands, with her magic. He was completely fascinated by it. Whenever he was cranky, we would just have her show him what she could do with magic and he'd be in the best mood."

A long moment passed and Astoria's smile faded. "Oh, oh – I -"

"No, it is fine."

Astoria disappeared into the barn to get her own plate of food before coming back outside with her own bottle of wine, sitting beside Fenris against the barn. In the fading sunlight, Fenris put the stack of drawings neatly back in its place and gave them it to her before turning his food to eat.

"You know, I have some of your old clothes in there. In the chest," she explained later, after their food had been finished and they sat quietly, watching the twilight spread over the countryside. Fenris was enjoying this more than he ever imagined he would. This felt so nice, to have a place that he was allowed to stay in, at least for only a few days, with Astoria, with a nice view and a supply of food. This is what Fenris had missed out on for the past ten years.

The idea made him frown, but he looked at Astoria curiously. "My clothes?"

"Yes. You wouldn't fit into them now, I'm sure, but I still have them."

"Was I not allowed to bring anything with me when I went to Danarius?" He couldn't remember having anything, but who was to say if Danarius had taken something away from him in the beginning, before the loss of his memories?

"No," Astoria said with a sad smile. "You didn't have much to begin with. But what you left behind, we kept."

He nodded. "Thank you."

He had drank most of the bottle of wine, feeling a buzz coming on from weeks of not drinking. He crossed his legs at the ankles and swirled the wine at the bottom of his glass around. Astoria groaned and got up, going around to light candles so they didn't sit in complete darkness.

By the time the stars were out, Fenris considered himself drunk, but not belligerent. Fenris never got to that point. Instead he quietly looked up at the stars, so numerous and magnificent in the countryside without a dense canopy of tree branches to block them out.

Astoria sat beside him, an arm's length away, drinking her wine and humming softly to herself as the cicadas came out to disrupt the otherwise silent night. Nighttime came alive and Fenris and Astoria were there towatch the show.

For miles in front of them, small villages glittered in the night against a patchwork of farms bathed in pale moonlight.

"I can't remember the last time I've just enjoyed scenery," Fenris declared honestly, gesturing with the hand he held the wine in. Astoria smiled, still humming and braiding her hair.

"I can't either," she said. "It is beautiful here, is it not?"

"It is," he agreed. "But so close to that cesspool of a city. Why did you not move further away?"

Astoria scoffed. "Well... we stopped here because I was six months pregnant at the time, the rebellion offered to take us in if we tended to the fields." She sighed and took a quick sip of her wine, much more daintily than he had bothered to. "And... we wanted to stay near Minrathous... in case you were ever... freed."

He snorted at the irony. "And you found me in Kirkwall, months away."

She laughed bitterly. "Yes. I love how things work out like that."

He offered his hand out to her, free of the gauntlets. She dropped her warm palm into his grasp and they interlocked their fingers.

"Do you regret finding me?"

"Hmm? No, Fenris, what? No. Not at all. Not for a second." Then she chuckled. "Well, except for when you tried to strangle me."

Fenris bowed his head in shame, but he knew she was jesting.

"Oh, Fenris," she cooed, squeezing his hand.

"I'm afraid I know no other way," he admitted solemnly.

"I know. I would not fault you for it."

"Well..." he took a long breath. "Thank you, I suppose."

She hummed affirmatively and gave him a reassuring squeeze. They were silent for a few moments, listening to the far off sounds of a pack of coyotes.

"Where is my mother's grave?" He asked suddenly, his voice more somber than before. Astoria ran her thumb absentmindedly over the back of his hand.

"It's towards the forest. Would you like to go?"

"Now?"

She smiled at him faintly. Fenris sucked in a breath, unsure. Then he nodded. "Yes. Take me there."

They both rose to their feet and Astoria began to lead him away from the barn towards the forest. Fenris turned to grab his sword, but Astoria shook her head.

"No, don't worry, she's right here."

He followed her unarmed and only wielding a nearly empty bottle of wine in his free hand, the other grasping Astoria's hand. She led him away from the barn towards the treeline, his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

This was not something he had ever expected to be doing. He secretly indulged in fantasies where he would meet his family again, but he had never expected anything to actually happen. Now he was going to visit his mother's grave for the first time.

Fenris held her hand close to his thigh, partly out of his instinct for the safety of both of them.

He followed Astoria's lead quietly, both of them barefoot and stepping along over the thick grass. She led him until they were under the canopy of the first tree, and then she stopped.

"Here she is, Fenris." Astoria said softly, disentangling her fingers from his.

Before him, about five feet in front of him, was a flat stone laid out, surrounded by small purple flowers that bloomed close to the ground. Fenris stepped around where he imagined his mother lay and knelt beside the gravestone. Astoria knelt beside him quietly and watched him.

It was difficult to see in the pale silver moonlight, but he could tell there was some kind of carving on the stone as he ran his slender fingers over it, trying to avoid crushing the small flowers under his knees.

"What does it say?" He asked quietly, trying to squint in the dark unsuccessfully.

"It says, '_Here lay Sharna, devoted mother of Leto and Varania, wife of Verran. You are the gentle breeze, guided by the sun and the moon_.'"

Fenris felt his heart swell to the point where he couldn't imagine how he would make it back to the barn without reducing himself to tears. His eyes welled up, but he didn't cry. He was the moon, Varania was the sun, his mother the wind. He sighed at Astoria's gentle touch on the back of his neck.

His lyrium pulsed for a brief moment, but he controlled himself and looked at the stone sorrowfully. "My... mother... is here, under the grass," he murmured, as if making this realization for the first time. He ran his fingers over the grass, its tendrils bending under his touch.

"She loved you so much. Even her... her last words, were 'tell Leto I love him.'"

Fenris swallowed and stood abruptly, like he needed to put distance between himself and the grave. "But I... I hardly remember her."

"You will, with time. Believe me when I say that... she was an admirable woman in every way. In case you were judging her based on Varania."

He gave a nod, finishing his bottle of wine. "I want to come back in the morning. Daylight."

"Of course."

They turned and left, Fenris feeling almost like a completely different man than he had that memory of the wedding changed everything, and he had no idea how to react to it.

He fell onto a bed inside, completely exhausted, and vaguely remembered asking her whose bed it was.

"It's mine, Leto," she had said with a chuckle, prying the empty wine bottle from his hands. Fenris tried watching her as she cleaned up, but he was asleep in seconds, and could not bring himself to tell her that he wasn't Leto anymore.


	37. Domestic

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Fallon-Idalia, Wicked Lullaby, Arquise, Spadequeen and Kira Tamarion for your wonderful reviews! I definitely take into account your hopes for the story.**

**That being said, sorry I've been slow on the update recently. Here's a nice long chapter for you. I sort of hit a brick wall in the story, but I'm past it and now I'm cranking away the pages again. Enjoy and let me know what you think!**

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><p>Fenris became ill again overnight. He fell into his hellish nightmares unsuspecting, a fever sprouting. He ached everywhere, felt sore everywhere as he transitioned between feeling like he was frozen to trying to take his clothes off because he was too hot. Astoria stayed by his side on the bed most of the time and hummed and sang to him.<p>

He had a damp cloth on his forehead the next night, Astoria's fingers running gently through his hair. He had his arms wrapped around one of her thighs, his head beside her knee. He was delirious still, in his fog barely realizing that it was Astoria comforting him.

Astoria poured cool water down his throat when he didn't fight her, which was tricky. She made him eat small bites throughout the day, and it was a wonder he didn't choke since he wasn't exactly fully coherent. He was able to come into reality for a few moments, stumbling weakly to use the bathroom, but he couldn't remember doing so.

But his fever broke by the morning, the second morning of being at the farm. It hadn't been as long as the last time he had been ill.

When he woke up, Astoria was sitting beside him on the bed, switching out the cloth on his forehead. He groaned, hating himself for having missed so much time.

"How long?" He asked, surprised at how his throat wasn't too parched.

"You only missed one day, two nights."

It was better than three days. Fenris gave a small nod. "Why is this happening?"

Astoria shook her head. "I couldn't tell you, Fenris. I still think it has to do with you getting your memories back."

He shut his eyes. If the ngihtmares and fevers were the price he'd pay for the memories, then that would be fine with him. He just wished they didn't leave him so useless and weak feeling.

"Thank you," he murmured, raising a hand to the cloth on his forehead.

"Of course." She gave him a weary smile.

"Have you slept?"

She chuckled as if that was an absurd question. "Don't worry about me. Just get yourself better."

He shut his eyes and curled a gentle fist in the bottom of her tunic, tugging on it. Astoria laughed.

"Fenris?"

He hummed something, too exhausted to speak anymore and tugged on her tunic once more. Astoria got the message and laid down beside him on the bed. After all, it was her bed, she should be able to use it, right?

Fenris put his palm on her hip and breathed in the smell of her hair, drifting off into a nightmare-less sleep for the first time in days.

That day Fenris recovered in bed, sleeping off his exhaustion of having a nightmare-ridden, sleepless twenty-four hours. He felt useless as Astoria took care of him, but he hadn't minded too much. No one had ever taken such good care of him. In fact, no one had bothered to try before.

Sure, the abomination had healed him when he needed it, but those had always been tense moments, and Fenris hated every second of it meanwhile still being aware that he'd die if the man hadn't been there. Astoria was_ caring_ for him, and he felt guilty, as if being sick were keeping her from her son.

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><p>To his luck, the next day Fenris found out that they had one more day left before they would be smuggled into Minrathous, almost a day's journey to the north. This gave him an entire day to relax.<p>

He went to his mother's grave early that morning while Astoria went to the house where Norval and the others stayed and bathed. He sat in the grass beside the flowers and looked around.

He didn't believe that her spirit was anywhere, watching over him. He didn't believe in that kind of thing, but as he sat there, he wished he did, wished he could reach out to her.

He wished she was alive so he could talk to her. He'd tell her that he had wanted to find her, that he had wondered about her and his father. He'd ask her so many questions. He'd apologize to her, because somewhere deep down he knew that he was not the man she would have expected him to be. He was a monster. He was a cold-blooded murderer cursed with the ability to tear out men's hearts.

He was not her Leto, of that he was sure.

He plucked a small flower and spun it by the stem in his fingers, looking at the thing as if it were a foreign and curious object.

His mother's last words were, "Tell Leto I love him."

Fenris shivered.

This had been his greatest wish for so long, his fantasy. To have a family that loved him. He shut his eyes and relived the memory of his marriage, indulging himself.

He had made vows, in front of his mother and sister, to Astoria. He had promised her so much. He wondered how disappointed Sharna would be in him if she lived. He smelt the flower in his hand and opened his eyes. Astoria was striding up towards the barn, and upon noticing him she gave him a smile and a wave, her hair falling wet over her shoulders.

Fenris sighed and glanced at the flat tombstone.

_ "You are the gentle breeze, guided by the sun and the moon."_

He put the flower down in the center of the stone and got to his feet, leaving his mother's side.

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><p>That day had been one of the better ones of his life.<p>

It was such an odd glimpse at normal, domestic life. This was the way people his age usually lived when they weren't working – at home, cooking and cleaning and enjoying things. Astoria taught him how to bake an apple pie, which they ate in the afternoon with some bottles of wine as they watched the sky redden while the sun made its slow arc down towards the horizon.

No one from the rebellion came to bother them. It was as if they were living in their own home, without a care in the world.

Fenris loved it, but he wouldn't admit it.

They didn't speak much, but Astoria sang and Fenris liked that just as much. She sang songs in Arcanum, songs in Elvhen, songs in Common. Fenris understood them all except for the elvhen ones, and in those he could still pick out a few words, thanks to Merrill. They were all happy, mostly folk songs. Some he had heard before at Danarius' parties, some in dark taverns across Thedas.

But they never sounded as good as they did now, coming from Astoria's almost ethereal voice.

When the sun had set, Fenris considered himself drunk. He sat against the outside wall of the barn and watched the twilight spread across Thedas. He was alone, watching the clouds on the horizon to the north.

Minrathous was in that direction, standing tall somewhere underneath those clouds. He felt dizzy thinking about his imminent arrival in that city.

He took a swig of the wine and tried to forget about that for now.

His emerald eyes flitted over the landscape. He loved it there. He enjoyed getting his first glimpse at a pleasant domestic life. This is what he could have been doing for the past ten years, if he hadn't needed to spend that time running to survive.

All this time he could have been enjoying sunsets, drinking wine, eating apple pie, sleeping in the same bed, not having to worry that a magister would find him to rip the flesh from his bones.

Astoria sat beside him suddenly and he startled for a quick moment. Her knee was against his thigh and he moved his wine bottle out of the way, inviting her to sit against the wall beside him. She moved and unrolled something in her hands.

"Are you alright, Fenris?"

He swallowed. "Must we go to Minrathous? Can that witch not meet us here?"

Astoria frowned. "If that will make you happy, we can do that."

Fenris was more than aware of the pain that showed on her face, the reluctance with which she said those words. If they had Varania meet them where they were, Astoria would lose precious days, at least a week, in her search for Lysander. And they had less than a month before the magisters would be convening, their window of opportunity shrinking.

"But...?"

Astoria gave him a small smile. "There is no 'but', Fenris. We will ask her to come here."

Fenris dropped his head, heartened at her kindness. "You shame me."

Astoria curled her fingers in the white fabric she held on her lap. "F..Fenris?"

"No, we will go to Minrathous." He leaned his head back against the barn door. "I won't keep you from Lysander any longer than necessary."

She smiled. "Thank... thank you."

"If we have her come here, we'd waste too much time. I've already held you back... getting ill and all. But what if it happens again in the city? You can't carry me if I get sick."

Astoria nodded in the growing dark. "I don't have a plan for that. I can have someone from the rebellion come with us."

Fenris frowned and sighed. "This is going to end badly, Astoria."

Astoria reached over and squeezed his thigh just above his knee. Fenris dropped his palm onto her hand, locking it there.

Maker's breath, he was drunk, by his standards anyway. Drunk for Fenris qualified for being buzzed for other people. He didn't like to lose control over himself from alcohol, and would consider himself drunk whenever that control seemed to be nearing its end.

Astoria smiled. "Fenris, no one knows that you're with me. Only your friends know. I didn't mention you in any letters to Varania, or anywhere. Actually, the letters weren't even to her, they were to Hollan in Minrathous."

"If any of that is a lie, I _need _to know, right now." He squeezed her hand briefly, a small scowl on his face.

"Fenris...," she sighed long suffering. Fenris knew she wasn't lying to him, she wasn't planning on betraying him, but he needed to hear it. "The fact that you even have to ask..."

She pulled her hand away from under his and dropped it onto her own lap with a hint of frustration. She looked at the fabric in her other hand and then gave it to him, dropping it in his hand.

"What is this?" Fenris picked up the white pouch. Inspecting it more closely he noticed tiny beads threaded into the fabric; beautiful greens and blues and pale yellows. A silver, thin rope held it shut.

"A couple things that belonged to Sharna. Letters to her from your father, her wedding ring."

Fenris' went still, looking at her suspiciously. "You said my mother couldn't read."

"She couldn't. She had her friend read these for her."

Fenris nodded. "Can you tell me more about him?"

"Read and find out." She smiled solemnly, nodding to the pouch.

Fenris curled his fingers around the opening of the pouch and tugged, his throat constricted. "Astoria..." he paused, looking up to her as firelight from inside the barn drifted out through the open door, "I apologize for thinking that you would lie to me."

She leaned into him and planted her lips softly and tentatively on his forehead. "I understand."

Cautiously, Fenris felt around in the pouch, his fingers latching on sheets of vellum, all folded up neatly in a small pile. He pulled them out, noticing how delicate and old they were.

"Where were these?"

Astoria smiled. "Your mother gave me a box once, with this in it. She told me to bury it and if the day ever came, that I could give the items away."

"Why not Varania?"

Astoria smiled mirthlessly. "I'm not sure. I'm older than she is?"

Fenris didn't have a better reason for her, but he didn't believe that one.

"Truthfully, you were her favorite. I think she felt closer to you through me than with Varania. You understood her better. She loved your sister, of course, more than life itself. But you... you were her first-born, her 'little moon.'"

Fenris swallowed, suddenly feeling unsteady. Astoria continued regardless.

"Varania knew it too, and you always tried to keep it from being obvious. You always felt so guilty about it."

Fenris suddenly felt pity for his sister, but he quickly suppressed it and scowled at Astoria, half-angry with himself. "Stop. I don't want to hear about her."

Astoria nodded, watching him carefully.

Fenris turned back to the vellum in his hands, unfolding the top piece carefully because it seemed like it would fall apart if he wasn't gentle enough. Then he paused and dug out the wedding ring from the pouch, examining it in his palm.

It was a small silver ring with a deep green stone in the center, with silver veins running through it. Fenris narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized it.

"Why didn't she give this to you?"

Astoria chuckled. "She did, after we were freed, but I wouldn't take it. Doesn't fit me anyway."

"My mother had small fingers," he noted with a small smirk. Astoria hummed a sound in her throat, surprised at the change in his mood.

"You used to tease her for it. She was so little. You were taller than her by the time you were fourteen, I think."

Fenris felt his lips twitching towards a smile. "This doesn't bring back any memories."

"You didn't see it much. She kept it hidden."

He nodded in understanding and put the ring back in the pouch before beginning to read the first sheet of vellum. The words were difficult to make out from age, and written in a mix of elvish and common, so Fenris didn't understand everything. But what he did understand was -

_My love,_

_ Jarlathal has told me that he's going off to join the Dalish, and I think you should take the children and go with him. I would miss you terribly, my dear, but it would be for the best. There's very little hope of me ever getting out of here -, and though I live for the rare times I can see you, I would rather you be safe with the Dalish than here and poor with our children._

_ Varania's connection with the Fade is stronger every time that I see you. The Dalish can teach her. The Dalish are good for people like her and I._

_ I was reminded of our little boy the other day – I was taking care of the magister's mabaris, and I remembered the time that Leto rode one of them around like a horse, kicking it in the ribs to make it run faster. The poor creature._

_ I'm betting that he's going to be a warrior still, despite what you think._

_ I asked someone to make me a doll for Varania, but it's going to take some time for me to - up what I need for it._

_ I miss you so much, my love. Please tell me that you'll go with Jarlathal, I would like to not worry about you. Give the children my love._

_ With love always,_

_ Verran_

Fenris spent a long time staring at the letter. He shivered at Astoria's fingers trailing up his arm, passing over his markings gently.

"Was... he a mage?"

Astoria nodded slowly. "A damn good one. Not just in skill. He would rather give up freedom, even in a place where his abilities would have taken him far, than have your family live in squalor."

"My bitch sister should have learned from him."

Astoria's fingers curled around to the inside of his arm softly. He ignored the touch feeling himself sobering by the second. Astoria leaned closer to him to get a better look at the letter.

"Oh, there," she pointed to the line about him being a warrior, "apparently your mother thought you would be a rogue. Because you were so fast and quiet, and devilish. But your father called it – he knew you'd be a warrior because you broke your mother's rib when she was still pregnant with you."

Fenris searched her face, wondering if she would tell him more, if she knew any more. This was so personal, such intimate information that Fenris didn't think he could read another that night.

"I want to spar," he said huskily, putting the letter back in the pouch and getting to his feet. Astoria smiled and nodded.

They went to the clearing near the forest, not far from where his mother's grave was because the grass was soft there. It was officially dark out, but the moon was bright.

When emotions or tensions got too high for Fenris, he'd always spar with her. Even if it was the middle of the day, she was always willing to do it with him. In doing so, he was able to channel his anxiety and frustrations, meanwhile getting closer to Astoria.

They faced each other in the dark. Fenris shifted his weight between his feet with his knees bent as he shut his eyes briefly and took a deep breath through his nose.

He tested the ground beneath his bare feet, the rebound of the dewy and spongy grass. He could smell the wine he had drank all day along with the unmistakable scent of farm; of crops and earth. The vague, feminine scent of Astoria wafted towards him as a feather-light breeze blew over the Tevinter countryside.

Fenris opened his eyes to see Astoria regarding him curiously. In the distance he heard a pack of coyotes, yipping as they hunted in the forest. An owl hooted, jovial and muted chatter from the house at the base of the farm, by the road.

He sent her a devilish smirk, rolling his shoulders. He was ready.

Astoria charged him and Fenris ducked into it. It wasn't his usual method, but he wanted to change things up. Normally he would sidestep and flank his opponent, or rather phase through them, but he wasn't about to use his markings against Astoria. As much as he jumped to conclusions about her – in uncertain times he thought she was betraying him, he had been wrong several times. Astoria had never meant him any harm.

He couldn't help but fall into his own personal fantasy in what he thought were moments of weakness. In his fantasy, he was in the happily ever after stage of his life, where he didn't have to worry about slavers, magisters, or betrayal by Astoria. The latter was at the forefront of his mind. He felt like the past four and a half months had been too good to be true. He was waiting for it all to come crashing down, and he knew he would be crushed. Just like he had been crushed for those brief moments before crossing the river into Hasmal, or when Astoria came crashing through the forest with slavers at her back. His mind had gone to dark places, and the thought of killing her to maintain his own freedom and safety made him nauseous.

Fenris didn't want to feel like that again. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave her.

He ducked into her charge and threw a toned arm around the front of her waist. He stood and yanked her against him, hearing her gasp out a breath as he threw his other arm around her, pinning her shoulders against his chest.

Astoria wrapped one leg behind her and essentially tried to hit him behind his knee. Fenris lost balance but only for a moment. The floral scent of her hair was intoxicating to him, he found himself frustrated because of it.

A flurry of movements and long but exciting minutes later, Astoria was straddling him, her hands pushing down on his shoulders where he lay. They were both breathless and gasping hard.

Fenris chuckled at the proud grin on Astoria's face, her eyes wide, chest heaving. Fenris felt that fire burning in him, desire flaring to life. Feelings he had kept suppressed were bursting, threatening to spill out from him.

He grabbed her wrists, and was strong enough to put them both on the grass to his right. He held both of her wrists with one hand and with the other, shoved her shoulder, simultaneously rolling his weight. In a moment Astoria was pinned to the ground with her wrists above her head. Fenris was straddling her, a wicked smirk on his face.

He panted, out of breath, as Astoria struggled beneath him. He stretched her arms further above her head and shifted his legs so that his feet touched together under him and his shins pinned her thighs to the ground.

Astoria met Fenris' gaze and his breath caught in his throat. His eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, and he could see that she was staring at him with her mouth parted slightly. Her chest heaved breathlessly, tantalizingly.

There was a moment of them catching their breath, and as it passed, Fenris growled.

He lowered himself quickly, crashing his mouth against hers in a thoughtless, bold act. She hesitated for a moment. Fenris felt her fingers unfurl as he was still grasping her wrists tightly. He let go of them one at a time and let up the pressure on her legs. He dropped his elbows on the grass on either side of her head and felt her hands fly to his shoulders, fingers pressing into the black of his sleeveless tunic.

He kissed her deeply, almost furiously. She met him with a soft eagerness, not pushing him. Their tongues met before he bit her bottom lip. A soft moan escaped her and Fenris shuddered at the sound. He shifted some of his weight onto a knee and tangled his hands in her hair, dragging her head closer to his as if no matter how deeply he kissed her, it wasn't enough.

"Mm, F... Fen... Fenris..."

He left her mouth and went to her neck, leaving bruising kisses on the soft skin. There was the slightest undertone of salt from their sparring.

"Ah, shit, Fenris-"

"Astoria," he growled, his voice low and gruff. "You can't betray me."

She went still, her palms flattening over his tunic. "I... I wouldn't."

Fenris shook his head against her, alarmingly aware of the smell of her hair and how it affected him. "I mean it," he bit out while softening his fists in her hair, "if you lead me into any trap, if you turn on me..."

"Fenris," she interrupted, moving her head away to look at him in the moonlight, "the only thing I could say to you to reassure you would be... far too personal for you to hear."

"Tell me," he commanded against her throat. Every time she moved her head away to look at him, he buried his face closer to her, refusing to meet her gaze.

She sighed and dropped her arms, as if no longer interested. "Fenris. You are the love of my life, you are my husband. I went halfway across Thedas to find you, I went to you even though Varric told me - _warned_ me - how you would react. Not everyone means to hurt you. I will give you anything you want and I ask for nothing in return. I just wish you would trust me."

They were silent for a moment, Fenris with his breathing ragged on her neck, his fingers splayed in her hair, much of his body weighing her down. He shut his eyes, shame flaring to life in him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I can't just... enjoy something."

Astoria seemed to relax slightly, moving one hand to the back of his neck. He went still and felt himself scowling. He had been touched on the neck plenty of times before, but never like this. Her fingers were gentle, careful as she trailed her fingers along the skin.

Fenris pulled away from the cook of her neck, searching her face questioningly.

"I..." he began, his voice sounding stretched, "I remembered our wedding."

Her eyes widened in shock, her gaze straining on his own. "You... what? How?"

Fenris took a breath. "The crown you wore, the flowers. When I held it, I remembered."

Astoria put her palm flat against his neck, as if trying to read his pulse. Fenris stared at her for a long time, but she didn't give anything away in her expression. "And how do you feel about it?"

He stroked her hair with one of his hands, longing to be closer but not knowing how. It shamed him, thinking that he was so broken as a man to not even be able to court someone. It shamed him to be so wary of tenderness and yet want it so badly.

"I think it was beautiful," he admitted, keeping his voice almost vacant of emotion purposely.

Astoria grinned widely, speechless. Fenris felt the corners of his lips tugging in a small smile. He liked her grin – such a rare thing.

"It was, wasn't it? Wait... how much did you remember?" She asked, a hint of coyness in her voice. Fenris dropped his head into the crook of her neck again, wondering if the romantic mood was too gone for him to kiss her.

"Just before I asked you if you were sure you wanted to go through with it... to when we got back to the house, er, the hovel."

Astoria giggled as if his breath on her neck tickled her. He allowed himself the pleasure of brushing his lips against her skin softly, before parting his lips and sucking for a brief moment. She went still, drawing in a breath.

Fenris nipped at her neck and she finally seemed to give. Her hands went to his shoulders again and daringly wrapped a leg around one of his. He pressed his lips roughly against the hollow of her throat, coaxing another soft moan out of her, before claiming her mouth once again.

The way she responded this time surprised him. She pulled him to her by his shoulders, answering his kiss with her own of equal fervor and desire. Fenris' head swam, part of him screaming at himself to stop and another part of him driven with determination and want for something he had denied himself for so long.

He tangled his hands in her hair, his bare arms uncomfortable against the ground as he bit and kissed her lips. His weight pinned her to the ground, but she didn't complain. Her hands trailed down from his shoulders to his arms on either side of her head, before traveling back up and then down his back. She hooked a finger around his belt and Fenris wavered. Something inside him snapped.

"Venhedis," he growled against her lips, forcing himself to regain control over himself. He couldn't do this now, he knew it.

Astoria made a moan of protest as he reluctantly rolled off her, untangling his hands from her hair. "What's wrong?" She asked, her voice sounding stretched.

Fenris got up, fearing that if he continued laying down beside her that he'd do much more than kiss. He adjusted himself so that he could walk comfortably and in a moment, Astoria was beside him, her lips bruised and swollen with the ferocity in which he kissed her.

"Fenris?"

His jade eyes shot to hers briefly and he frowned in the moonlight. He opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. Astoria stepped to stand in front of him.

"Is it something I did? I'm sorry-"

"No." He answered honestly, his voice icy.

Astoria slowly put one hand on the back of his neck and stood up on her toes. Fenris went still, ready to push her away, but he didn't.

She slowly went to his neck, her breath hot against his skin. She touched her lips gently to his throat, just below his jaw near his ear, in the hollow.

Fenris gasped slightly, the touch thrilling and... familiar?

She parted her lips and pressed a kiss against his skin.

_He had his arms tight around Astoria, shivering at the kiss on his throat. "Mmm," he said, his voice young and playful but still deep, "you found it."_

_ She chuckled, shaking slightly in his arms. The hallway was dark and unlit – perfect. Leto had planned this perfectly._

_ She was so little in his arms, not yet fully developed into the beautiful woman she would be. She hadn't been eating well. He had given her portions of his own food, aware that there were some humans in her quarters that probably threatened her over her portions, making her give them up._

_ "Astoria," Leto said with an involuntary grin as she kissed him again in that spot, "you can tell me if someone isn't being fair to you."_

_ "What do you mean?" She asked, a hand crawling up under his tunic to his chest._

_ "I don't think you're eating. Who's taking your food?"_

_ Astoria nibbled at his neck and his knees nearly buckled. It was a struggle to stay on his feet._

_ "No one."_

_ Leto pressed his cheek to the top of her hair and shut his eyes as she splayed her fingers over his side, across his ribs._

_ "I know when you're lying, mellita."_

_ "I don't know what that means."_

_ "What?"_

_ Astoria sighed heavily, leaning against him, making him burn with desire. "I don't know what that word means."_

_ "Don't change the subject. Who's taking your food?"_

_ "No one, Leto."_

_ "Don't tell me, then." He frowned, tightening his grip on her and planting a kiss on her hair. "But you know that I would protect you, right? I would do anything to keep you safe... and healthy." He added with a chuckle._

_ "I know."_

Fenris stepped back unsteadily, his eyes darkening before he clasped his hands against her shoulders, dragging her to him. He told her about the memory quickly, watching her reaction. She nodded solemnly, her lips swollen and cheeks flushed with the passion of the past several minutes.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Astoria furrowed her brow. "If you stepped in, you would have gotten hurt – you would have been punished somehow. Besides, not long after I ended up moving in with your family."

Fenris felt ashamed, again, his anger dissolving quickly. Of course she had been only protecting him. When had she ever done anything else? He hated how he overreacted all the time.

He moved his hands from her shoulders to her neck, feeling her pulse underneath his palm. Fenris sighed and looked at her sadly.

"I am unfair to you."

Astoria blinked at him, confused and then a small, half-smile appeared on her face. "You've been through a lot, Fenris, I can't fault you for being defensive."

He was shocked at her kindness, her level of understanding. "You are too permissive of me."

She rolled her eyes, a smile still on her face. "You wouldn't still be here if I wasn't."

"I wouldn't." He admitted. "But you should be wary of me, Astoria. I'm not a good man."

"You are."

"I've killed people I've trusted."

Astoria sighed. "You're telling me to stay away? You kissed _me_, did you not?"

"It is difficult not to."

Even in the moonlight, he knew she was blushing furiously. He felt her pulse quicken in her neck and she averted her gaze.

"Fenris... I ache for you, with everything I have. I can hardly... you cannot tease me like this. Do not kiss me like that and then tell me to be careful. I'm past that. I cannot be careful anymore."

Fenris wasn't sure he was hearing her correctly. He furrowed his brow, cleared his throat nervously and splayed his fingers out on her neck, both endeared and ashamed. He hadn't thought of how tormented his presence may have made her. So consumed with himself, he hadn't given her feelings much consideration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but he couldn't. There was no way to respond.

"I think we're both asking for the same thing," Astoria said softly. "We are both asking for the other to be genuine, aren't we?"

He swallowed and nodded. It wasn't exactly the same thing to him, but he didn't want to argue against her honesty. He loved how honest she was, it was such a rare thing. People normally walked on eggshells around him, avoided him, or were just outright cruel to him.

But she was far from those things. And he was appreciative.

"I am... trying, Astoria."

She frowned and gave him a small nod after a moment.

"I know what I am, Astoria. I know how I act."

Astoria forced a smile and stepped closer to him. He kept his hands on her neck, feather-light, rubbing his thumbs up and down the skin, running over the new bruises that his mouth had left. She put her own hands on his chest and looked up at him with a sad smile.

"Fenris... there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with the way you act. You have been through so much. But you _are _a good man, and on that point I will never waver."

He felt light, weightless. His stomach seemed to flutter.

He shut his eyes and bowed his head. He opened his mouth but Astoria stopped him.

"No, Fenris, don't argue with it. Just take a compliment. Please."

He let out a strangled chuckle and opened his eyes, a small and lazy smirk on his face. "If that is what you want."

She smiled genuinely. "It is."

Fenris' smirk leveled out and he pressed his lips into a hard line, trying to to keep from kissing her. He wanted to, wanted to further indulge in that pleasure, a pleasure he had never really allowed himself to have.

He had been kissed before, but they were never companionable or friendly kisses. Under Danarius' control, he had done things he wasn't proud of, things he didn't want to do, and some things he actually hadn't minded. Those memories shamed him more than anything, because looking back on them he hated them. But during those times, he hadn't known any better. There were some things he hadn't ever planned on telling anyone, Astoria included.

But none of that mattered to him at the moment. Fenris was well aware of how much he wanted her, some times more than others. It was a desire that he always felt, but usually paid no mind to.

Fenris moved one hand, brushing his knuckles along her neck. "I've marked you... again. I'm sorry."

She laughed. "Fenris."

"Hmm?"

She went up on her toes and planted a lazy kiss on his lips. "Do you know how you got that scar?"

Her index finger tapped his chin, on the left vein of his lyrium, a hair above its widest point. It was hardly noticeable at all. He knew this scar, but he had had it as long as he could remember.

"You know the answer to that."

She nodded. "I do. Well... it was stupid. I'm glad you can't remember it."

"What did you do?" He asked with his brow furrowed seriously.

She smiled and took a closer step towards him, wrapping her arms tentatively around him, just under his arms, her hands meeting in the center of his spine. Fenris arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, Fenris, it's embarrassing."

"By all means, continue."

She rolled her eyes but grinned. "It was your fault, really. You got me drunk – but you were a perfect gentleman, as always, never tried anything when we drank. Anyway, I dropped the wine bottle. It smashed all over the ground. I reached down, grabbed the neck and apparently you were crouching beside me, helping me pick up the glass. Well, I got up to get a rag, still holding the neck, and you were leaning across to pick up a piece. The glass cut right into your chin, you bled forever. I felt so awful, but you had just laughed."

Fenris frowned, again reminded of the awful memory he had from when he was younger. She had countless white scars on her back and he only had one small one on his chin, half covered up by his markings. He pulled his hands slowly away from her neck and nodded to the barn. "Let's go inside. Tomorrow we're going to Minrathous."

"I still have one more bottle of wine."

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><p><strong>Very long chapter - sorry if you were planning on a shorter one. BTW, I get so embarrassed writing the "steamy bits" - but I hope it came out sounding natural.<strong>


	38. Smuggling

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage, Wicked Lullaby & Fallon-Idalia for your reviews on the last couple chapters, and to everyone who's been reading/favoriting/watching.**

**I'm sorry again for the updates being slow - things have been busy for me, but I think they'll calm down a bit soon. Enjoy!**

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><p>Fenris hadn't slept that night. He had laid down on Astoria's bed, feeling too uncomfortable to sleep in the other ones. Astoria, meanwhile, slept fitfully in Sharna's bed. She was having bad dreams, but he didn't bother her.<p>

He got sick of tossing on the bed and crept outside, sitting down against the wall of the barn.

His anxiety was sky high. He couldn't stop fidgeting, and he never fidgeted, so it was serious. With the sunrise, he'd be going into Minrathous. With Danarius and Hadriana dead, he knew some of his anxiety was unfounded. Still, Fenris knew his monetary worth. The lyrium in his skin was worth more money than if diamonds were put in his skin. Fenris had no idea how many sovereigns that amounted to, but he knew he was worth a city.

If the wrong person saw him in Minrathous, someone that maybe recognized him as Danarius' ex-bodyguard, he'd be done for.

Fenris' biggest fear concerned Varania. He knew that Varania didn't know Astoria had found him. She would have no reason to expect him, to prepare for him. Still, he didn't know what her intentions were with Astoria. Did she truly have information on Lysander, or was it a trap for someone to capture Astoria, a woman of high standing in the slave resistance?

If she had anything less than the purest of intentions, he knew no one could stop him.

He had been conflicted afterwards, after he cooled down, when Hawke had kept him from killing Varania. Sometimes he was glad that he hadn't gone through with it, other times he found himself trying to convince himself that it was necessary – that he should have killed her.

Fenris sighed and put his head between his knees in the dark of the pre-dawn.

He heard the slow creak of the mattress inside. For a moment he wondered if Astoria was getting up, if she would come and join him in the early morning and watch the sun rise over the hills to the east. He wanted her to. He enjoyed her company, she was soothing to him.

Fenris smoothed his palms over his thighs and leaned his head back against the barn's wall with a bit more force than intended. A cat stalked through the crops not far away, and the birds were singing wildly, obnoxiously.

The path before him, as he saw it, was almost at its end in one way or another. He knew he would not be captured again, he'd die before he'd be anyone's slave again. He played out other scenarios in his mind. What if Varania actually had Lysander, if she had been taking care of him all this time? What if she didn't know where the boy was? What if she did?

It made his head spin.

He needed to think of something else to distract him, or he feared he'd lose his mind before the sun rose. He relived his marriage. It was the happiest, most in-depth memory he had from before. He focused on little things in the memory – the glance between Astoria and his mother, the feel of Astoria's green dress in his fist afterwards as he pulled it slowly up her leg, the way his voice had sounded younger, not as deep.

He heard the barn door swing open slowly, and he cleared his throat, pulling himself out of the memory quickly. Slightly irritated, as if he had been caught doing something, he looked to see Astoria stepping out of the barn.

"Fenris?" She asked, her voice soft.

"I'm here," he said.

"Ah." She furrowed her brow. "May I join you?"

He hummed affirmatively and Astoria settled on the ground beside him.

"You cannot sleep either," he noted. To the east the sky was beginning to lighten, just barely.

"No. I keep worrying about him."

He didn't say anything, but he didn't give her a reason to stop talking either.

"When I get him back... I hope he's the same sweet little boy I used to know."

Fenris didn't want to tell her that he wouldn't be, much like himself. He didn't want to tell her that the boy was probably dead, long gone at the hands of a disgusting magister who would sacrifice an innocent child for a bit more power.

"I know it's foolish of me to hope for that. But he was wonderful. He was five years old when I found out that my mother and father had died in the Blight, and he was so sweet. He went and brought me flowers, it was the cutest thing looking back on it. It was just a couple months before your mother passed, and when that happened, he was heartbroken, but I don't think he really understood it. He'd keep asking me when 'nana' was coming back."

She let out a sob into her palm and shook her head, trying to regain her composure. Fenris put an arm tentatively around her shoulders and drew her towards him.

There were so many things she had gone through that he never gave any though because he was so consumed with himself. Hearing more of where she had been made him feel guilty, unworthy and ashamed while at the same time he admired her strength. She had plenty of reason to hate, and she still didn't. She had reason to hate him, specifically, because his freedom had cost her her own son, though Fenris knew she didn't see it that way.

"He asked me about you," she told him with her temple against his collarbone. With one arm around her, he interlaced the fingers on his other hand with hers. "He wanted to learn all the sparring techniques you taught me. He was a little fighter, that one."

Fenris smirked. "I'm not surprised. Both his parents are skilled."

He realized that was the first time he had acknowledged being a father to her face. It didn't feel like anything was different, it was just a fact. There was no monumental shift that he felt. Maybe he had come to terms with it before. Fenris told himself that acknowledging the child didn't mean he had to actually be a father.

"I'm sorry... I interrupted your... thinking, out here. You were having a nice time before I came out and started complaining."

Fenris chuckled. "You're not interrupting anything."

The sky to the east was getting lighter, and now the shape of the landscape around him was vaguely visible in the dark twilight.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

He frowned and pressed his cheek against her hair. "Yes."

"I'm sorry. I will understand if you leave."

He ran a thumb over the back of her hand. Months ago, he never would have imagined showing affection to anyone on this level, but now that he was experiencing it, he wanted more and more. He had never touched or been touched so gently before by anyone, he couldn't imagine why he had denied himself the pleasure for so many years.

"Whether you mean to or not, this is still a trap for me."

"I know," she said softly. "But I won't let anyone take you."

He felt the corner of his lip twitch. "That remains to be seen."

She sighed, but didn't argue. "You think low of me."

"I think low of almost everyone." At least in that, he was honest, mostly. "Not you, however."

Fenris could feel her smiling against his collarbone.

"You've changed a lot," she whispered after a few long moments, "since I met you in Kirkwall."

Fenris shut his eyes and took in the scent of her hair. "But I'm not like I was, am I?"

Astoria shrugged slightly. "You don't have to be Leto. You aren't him. Getting Leto's memories doesn't make you any more of who you are. You aren't less a man without them."

"I don't know if I agree. Waking up without any memory..." Fenris said somberly, "to wake up and be eighteen years old and not know how you got there – I certainly did not feel like a man."

Astoria's fingers trailed softly over Fenris' abdomen, tracing circles on his tunic. "Fenris... we are not who we are because of what's been done to us."

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><p>Hours later, Fenris was completely miserable. He sat in the back of a dark covered wagon, with Astoria practically on his lap, though it was clear she was trying to provide him with all of the space his demeanor demanded. They were cramped in the back corner of the wagon, behind a few rows of kegs and barrels of wine – not all full.<p>

Norval and Hollan had arranged for a smuggler to get them into Minrathous without being spotted. Not long after dawn, a rickety covered wagon drawn by two horses went lazily down the dirt road at the bottom of the farm. The elf that drove it seemed decent enough, but Fenris couldn't find it in himself to trust the man.

If anyone was planning something awful, Fenris was sure it would happen now – while he was trapped in a small space without the proper amount of room to even brandish his sword. To help put his mind at ease, Astoria offered him one of her daggers, which he accepted and placed on the floor beside him.

They were in that wagon most of the morning in silence, listening intently to the changes in the sounds outside. When they heard a guard approach the wagon, they both froze. Fenris closed his slender fingers around the dagger, though he knew he was hidden completely by the barrels and kegs.

"Oi, elf, what's your cargo?"

"Wine from Nevarra and ale from the Free Marches," the elf answered, sounding sure of himself. Astoria put her hand reassuringly on Fenris' knee and shut her eyes as if in prayer. Fenris shot her a glare but she didn't see it.

"I'm going to take a look," said the guard. Fenris bowed his head and balled his free hand in a fist. Astoria shrunk beside him, curling herself into the smallest ball that physics would allow as the heavy armor-plated footsteps of the guard rounded the wagon.

Light flooded into the wagon as the gate was opened. Fenris and Astoria went absolutely still as they held their breath and listened. The guard could not see them, but he did have the right to rummage through and count the barrels – which would of course lead to him finding them.

"I want to see the inventory list," the guard demanded.

"Sure," the elf answered. A few moments passed and the guard gave a sigh.

"Alright, you're free to go in." The gate to the back of the wagon slammed shut and Fenris let out a silent breath.

"Have a good day, ser," the elf said cheerfully, earning a grunt of reply from the guard.

Fenris shifted his gaze to Astoria, feeling only slightly foolish for being so wary. He tried to shift as the wagon began its noisy and bumpy roll into the city. They knew that they were inside when the volume multiplied. Merchants were calling out to passersby in Arcanum, people were all around, talking about a variety of things, someone was playing a string instrument on the corner of a street.

Fenris shuddered even though he was sweating in the heat. Several times the wagon had to stop short, which caused an empty barrel to fall onto them, earning a hushed curse from Fenris' mouth. He was cramping up all over and sore from having no room to move.

An agonizing half-hour later, the wagon bounced uncomfortably to a halt in a quiet part of the city. The elf driving began whistling as he opened the gate to the wagon and said low as to not draw attention, "when you can, make it look like you're helping me unload."

They said nothing as the first barrel was pushed to the side. Fenris put Astoria's dagger on his belt and shared a relieved glance with her.

Fenris helped the man unload two barrels, before the elf gave them a brief nod. Astoria stepped out of the wagon and stretched like a cat after a long nap. Fenris pulled the hood of the black cloak Astoria had given him over his own head and wrapped his scarf around him. Here, he'd have to keep his markings concealed.

It had been mutually decided that if anyone questioned them, Astoria would explain that he was her bodyguard and she was the wife of a wealthy merchant from Vyrantium. For all intensive purposes, he would go by the name Verran. Fenris chose it – not wanting to come up with a name that had no meaning to him. Verran was his father, and he knew that he would react if he heard Astoria say it as opposed to a nonsense name that one of them could forget.

They said a quick good-bye to the elf and Astoria led Fenris out of the alleyway they had been dropped off in.

They didn't speak as they weaved their way through the streets, not bringing more attention than any other young woman of Astoria's appearance would receive. Fenris walked just behind her, his jade eyes nervously scanning the face of everyone they passed.

The only people to pay any attention to them were lecherous men – many of whom were poor or sleazy in appearance. They would glance between her and Fenris and seem to have second thoughts about catcalling her. But they were blatant in other ways – nudging each other and wiggling their eyebrows as she walked by, paying them no notice.

It made Fenris irritated. If men looked at her like that, with his intimidating presence behind her, how did they act when she was alone? How did she defend herself when she lived on the streets with his family for those few months before moving out to the farm? Had anyone overpowered her or Varania or, Maker forbid, his mother?

Fenris felt nauseous thinking about it.

Astoria knew the layout of Minrathous far better than he had. Fenris only knew a few parts of the city, parts that they were nowhere near. He was immensely thankful that they weren't walking by the slave auctions, or Danarius' estate.

Minrathous didn't have an alienage. That section of the city had been blocked off and burned to the ground during a slave rebellion one time, to the delight of the magisters. In its place stood the newest capitol building – an enormous structure with sprawling gardens in it's wide courtyard. It was a slap in the face to any elf or slave, and that's how things worked in Minrathous.

Fenris could see its tallest tower as they weaved through a set of streets down a sloping hill. Astoria led him into an alleyway and pounded her fist on a door beside a barrel of garbage. Fenris scrunched his nose and stood beside her as they waited.

The door opened a fraction, and an elven woman looked out at them.

"Hello, miss," she said sheepishly, holding the door almost shut. "There is a door on the main street that leads to the tavern, if you wish for drink."

Astoria shook her head and smiled softly at the woman. "No, thank you, we are looking for Hollan."

"Hollan?" Fenris could see that the woman was feigning ignorance.

"Yes, he's expecting us. Norval from the south sent us."

Her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, yes, my apologies." The door swung open. "No one has seen you two come into the city, have they?"

"No, we were unnoticed."

"Ah, good then. Welcome. I'm Avanna."

"Astoria," she said and then gestured to Fenris.

"Fenris." He said with a curt nod. They stepped inside and Avanna shut the door behind her. They were in a dark storage room with wooden crates and boxes everywhere.

"Here," said the elven woman with a wide grin that faltered as Fenris tugged his scarf down under his chin to reveal his markings. Fenris rolled his eyes in irritation and glanced at Astoria. The woman clasped her hands in front of her and forced a polite smile. "Come with me you two, I'll show you around."


	39. Astoria's Thoughts

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia, Bear Mage and Wicked Lullaby for your reviews recently - again, it always means a lot to me.**

**I'm sorry again for the updates being slow - I just started my new job and it's taking up my favorite writing time of the day... blah. Here is an Astoria chapter, but I plan on putting the next one up soon, maybe even later tonight.**

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><p>"May I see the letter?" Fenris asks from the opposite side of our room – which is an emptied out closet with a few candles and some blankets laid out on the floor. I smile at him and see his eyebrows lift a fraction in surprise.<p>

"Of course," I say and hand him the letter I've written for Hollan to give to the unnamed woman whom we imagine is Varania. He turns the vellum so that the candlelight catches it and he can read it. I watch in wonder as his eyes narrow and run over the letter, pausing at some parts where he squints only slightly. About halfway through he glances at me and sees me watching him, and then when he looks back at the letter I see the corner of his lip twitch as if he's going to smile.

Since that ravenous kiss we shared, I have been aching for him in a way that would make brothel women blush. It is so frustrating that I think I might tear my hair out.

Fenris finishes the letter and leans forward, dropping the letter to the floor in front of me. "You have a way with words, Astoria."

The way he says my name, like some deep and low rumble from his chest that makes my heart pound. "Thank you," I say.

He pulls one leg up towards his chest and rests his arm across it, locking his fingers together. "Why did you never write me a letter?"

His face doesn't tell me that he's accusing me of anything. He seems calm, which is certainly new for him.

"I... didn't want to ruin your life."

He scoffs. "Why would that ruin my life?"

I get up off my stomach and sit, leaning against the wall opposite of him. The room is so tiny that if I tried, I could kick his knee, but of course I don't.

"Like I said before, if you had a family now," the thought feels like I'm twisting a barbed spike in my own stomach, "I wouldn't want to be that woman, the home-wrecker."

"Even if it was your home to begin with?" He inquires gently, as if he knows this is a sore spot.

"Yes." I say. "And if I'm completely honest, I didn't want you to run." His eyes narrow slightly at this. "I wanted to see for myself that you were alright, that you were safe and happy. I was worried with... what happened with Varania, I was worried that you would run as soon as you got wind of me."

He lets half of his mouth curl in a small smirk, shifting his gaze away. I'd give anything to know what he's thinking.

"I don't think I would have run. Still..." he growls softly, if such a thing is possible, "you would have been safer going to my place with Hawke and not alone."

I nod. "I know. He wanted to go with me, and so did Varric – especially Varric. But I was worried. I figured... with the way they described you... that you wouldn't want anyone else there." I'm sure I'm offending him. But his face is an unreadable mask as his jade eyes flutter over me.

He swallows and nods, a slight frown on his face. "You know me better than my own... friends." He allows, looking somberly at his gauntlets.

I open my mouth to say something but he keeps talking.

"I still think it would have been helpful for Hawke to be there," he explains, "I wouldn't have tried to kill you."

I shrug, chuckling nervously because I feel everything inside me threatening to shatter, even though I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be a woman, a mother. Fenris is watching me without humor in his eyes, and I wonder how much he regrets his reaction – if it actually bothers him on a level I don't see. I didn't want him to be embarrassed for it, for overreacting when I knocked on his door. That's why I hadn't brought anyone with me to meet him. I wanted to make sure that no one would judge him for his reaction to meeting me.

"But you would have wanted to, right?" I say slowly, because each syllable rips at my heart, "I mean, I disrupted everything for you."

He snorts, bemused. "Oh yes, you disrupted my busy and important life of running errands with Hawke."

"No," I reply, "I mean... there was a lot you could have had there."

He quirks a knowing eyebrow. "Oh? You mean a relationship with Isabela?"

He sees right through me. I feel myself beginning to blush and he chuckles quietly.

"I assure you, Astoria," he begins, avoiding looking me in the eye and gestures vaguely, "I would take this over her. There was nothing wrong with her, in fact I enjoyed her being around, but" he gives me a lazy smirk, "I'm glad that I am here... with you."

I grin. "I am also."

He scoffs, looking at his gauntlets. "All I ever wanted was my family. To learn where I came from, who raised me... it's exhilarating to begin learning, to remember. You are... you have gone above and beyond my wildest dreams."

I'm pretty sure I'm gawking at him, but he doesn't show any signs of discomfort aside from his ears turning salmon pink.

"You have shown me nothing but kindness and I have repeatedly... reacted poorly. I sincerely apologize for... everything."

I know that I'm blushing, and the knowing smirk that he gives me tells me that it's obvious.

"There's no need to apologize, Fenris," I manage to utter.

He shakes his head in disagreement. "You did not marry a cold man that doesn't know when he's wrong, did you? I have been unfair to you."

My grin is wide and unashamed, and no matter how hard I try I can't suppress it.

"I should have looked for you sooner."

He quirks an eyebrow. "You had a son, you couldn't go looking all over Thedas for me."

"I also didn't know I was looking for a '_Fenris_,' and not a '_Leto_.' When Danarius," I see him tense up like a spring and silently berate myself for using that man's name, "...when he came to our house... he asked for 'Leto.' He knew that you went by 'Fenris' and he purposely didn't tell us."

Fenris' brow is knit and his mouth is pressed in a hard line. I feel myself panicking, hoping I hadn't crossed a line. His hard and steely gaze is focused intently on the wall near my head, but I'm glad that it isn't on me because I think I would both melt and burst into flames.

But when he shifts his gaze to me I feel my hands begin to tremble. Oh Maker.

He reaches out and puts a hand on my ankle. Maybe I haven't fucked up that badly.

Fenris tucks his fingers under my leggings and squeezes my ankle. A pair of beautiful, almond shaped jade eyes flicker to my face and hang there. He continues solemnly, softly.

"I think of all the years I've lost. To know that Danarius did that... kept me from my family when he knew how to find you and who you were... it's infuriating. I had to..._ serve_ that ingrate... and he lied to me."

I noticed how his voice went tight when he said "serve" and how his grip tightened around my ankle. Only after he takes a long breath does he relax.

"I've... asked him about my family, about who I left," Fenris says quietly, almost as if it's to himself, "I later regretted that, but not only because of the way I was punished but because he told me _nothing_."

Is he saying what I think he's saying?

Fenris sighs and gives me a small half-smile and squeezes my ankle tenderly. I am floored in this moment.

"I am sorry he was so awful to you, Fenris," I say sincerely. At this point I've assumed that there was something between Fenris and Danarius that was beyond the typical slave/master dynamic. I can't blame him for it – Fenris woke up without a memory of his past life, and Danarius was the caretaker as well as the one with direction, with answers.

I shudder thinking about it. The image of Fenris feeling anything other than hate for that man tears at me. He told me that at first he had run from Danarius when he was injured, but he wasn't running from Danarius himself. I assume that at the time he was trying to get away from the horror of what he had done to his friends. I wonder if he loved Danarius at one point. I hope that he does not grow to love me only for the answers I possess.

Fenris tugs on my ankle and I snap out of my horrific daydream.

He has his head cocked to the side and his mouth slightly open, eyes dark.

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

I smile mutedly, though it is forced. He tugs on my ankle again and I see this as an invitation.

I get up and go to sit neck to him. I open my mouth to answer him but I can't. I worry that I'll say something unwelcome to both of us.

His hand has found its way onto the middle of my thigh, his touch feather-light and tentative on my clothing. I notice that his ears are still pink, that his gaze is unpredictable as it flutters around, resting on my face sporadically.

"I'm thinking of a lot of things, Fenris."

He nods and I take his hand in my own, lifting it from my thigh. He is smart enough to know that I don't want to answer anything more, and I'm eternally grateful for it. If he invited me to say all the things I'm thinking... I'd unload too much on him. I'd scare him off.

It's a shame that I have to act like this around my own husband.

He squeezes my hand and pulls it up to his face, planting an open-mouthed kiss on the back of it. His free hand closes gently around my elbow and he pulls me in.

In a moment I'm resting my head on his chest with our arms around each other. I can feel his face buried in my hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

I think he kisses the top of my head.

He tightens his arms around me and his breath is hot in my hair. I want to say something, but sometimes it is difficult to improve on silence.


	40. Settling in at Minrathous

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia, Bear Mage and Wicked Lullaby for your reviews recently - again, it always means a lot to me.**

**I said I'd put another up, so here it is. Not too exciting, but I think it was a bit mandatory. Meh.**

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><p>They brought the letter to Hollan the next morning to be delivered. The man had similar, dusky skin like Fenris but with shoulder-length blond hair and hazel eyes. He appeared to be a warrior, with a battleaxe leaning against his flimsy desk in a small room that served as an office.<p>

It was immediately apparent to Fenris why the young man was in the position he was in – as the branch leader of the rebellion. He looked well-organized, had several curious battle scars and dropped everything he was doing when they entered the room, looking at them with sincere interest.

"Ah, my sister told me you are Astoria?" The man inquired, stepping around his desk to shake her hand.

"Yes, it is nice to meet you finally, Hollan."

"You also. I regret that we haven't met yet, since you lived so close. Your journey into the city went well?"

"Yes, thank you." She said with a smile before gesturing to Fenris. "This is Fenris. Fenris, Hollan."

The two elven men shook hands briefly and Hollan gave Fenris a pleasant grin. "Ah, a fellow warrior I see." He nodded to Fenris' sword.

A pair of jade eyes flickered to Astoria in something like annoyance before he nodded. "Yes."

"Well, it is good to have you around, Fenris. Pleasure to meet you. Now... I'm..." Hollan looked quizzically at the neat stacks of vellum on his desk, "I know you wanted to talk to me about something in particular, but..."

"Oh, I'll fill you in," Astoria said cheerfully, trying to be friendly. "Apparently you know a woman who knows the location of my son. Could you tell me where to find her or who she is?"

Hollan furrowed his brow and glanced at Fenris, deep in thought. "Oh, I remember now. Yes... you are the woman that threatens to burn down Tevinter in search for your little one," he said with a chuckle.

Fenris looked at Astoria, confused, but she was paying him no mind. She stared expectantly at Hollan, her blue eyes filled with a hope that Fenris knew could devastate her if it proved unfounded. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and wish her son back in her life, he wanted the best to happen for her because she deserved it.

But right now, Hollan held the key.

He cleared his throat and continued, as if uneasy under the woman's gaze. "A woman went to one of my... employees and gave him a letter. This was almost a year ago, and I nearly forgot it now. It was an unsigned letter, saying that I needed to contact you, Astoria, and tell you that she knew where your son was. I tried to get her to meet me, but she wouldn't. She has been going to the same employee, a courier, for a year and that's how we've been in communication."

Astoria was rigid beside Fenris, her breathing shaky and shallow. He frowned, wanting to comfort her. This certainly sounded like Varania, and if the woman had only begun this almost a year ago, then it was after he had tried to kill her – it gave Varania enough time to get back to Tevinter. The timing was spot on. He had not a doubt in his mind that this was Varania's doing.

"You have no idea who she is?" Fenris asked for Astoria, since she seemed to dizzy to speak.

Hollan spared her a concerned look and then turned to Fenris. "No, I have an idea. She's an elf. The courier said that she was little, with green eyes and red hair. I just personally haven't seen her."

Fenris sucked in a harsh breath and Astoria swayed on her feet. It was Varania, now confirmed. Fenris cursed under his breath and grabbed Astoria's arm to steady her though he himself did not feel steady at all.

"Where can we find her?" He asked, his voice a growl.

Hollan was grabbing a glass of water for Astoria, and after he shoved it into her shaking hands he shrugged to Fenris. "I have no idea. There are a lot of people who don't like to get involved with us because everyone expects us to fail. We're all doing illegal things – we commit treason on a daily basis. For a commoner to associate with us is a death sentence. If someone wishes to remain outside and communicate important messages to family and friends, I'm not going to get in the way of that."

"You never had anyone follow her?" Fenris asked, irritation evident in the way his voice went tight and his eyes darkened.

"No. I'm not forcing anyone to associate with us." Hollan cast a critical eye at Fenris before looking at Astoria, eyes filled with something akin to pity. Fenris still hadn't released her arm as her head swam with dread and horror. "Why does this all matter anyway? Don't you just want to find your son?"

"Of course we do," Fenris bit out hotly, scowling at Hollan, "but we have reason not to trust the woman you speak of."

Recognition played across Hollan's face. "Ah, my apologies then. There isn't much I can tell you, I'm sorry. But if you wish to find the woman, you can go to the bazaar near the docks. The courier that the woman goes to is there. She's been going to him every few days for almost a year, looking for a reply from you."

Astoria looked up at Fenris beside her, her eyes desperate and sorrowful. Fenris handed Hollan the letter that she had written the night before.

"Can you get this to the courier then?" He asked, aware that Astoria's eyes lingered on him, her weight slumping just a bit as if she was losing her balance even further.

Hollan nodded and put the vellum by itself on the desk. "The next time she visits my courier, she'll get this."

Fenris swallowed hard. "If we do go to the market... what does your courier look like?"

Hollan pointed to his own left eye. "He's blind in this eye, and you can tell, it's obvious. He's bald and sells clothing at one of the vendor booths. Will she be alright?"

Fenris looked at Astoria and he nodded. She was steeling herself, still looking dazed and horrified as she steadied herself back onto her feet.

"Where's Eshan?" She asked, her voice sounding far away.

Hollan cocked his head curiously. "I think they're only a few days away. I got a letter from them in Marnus Pell a few weeks ago. They raided slaver dens outside the city and supposedly freed and recruited a lot of elves."

"That's wonderful," Astoria breathed. "Good."

Hollan nodded, looking curiously at her. He crossed his arms over his chest and glanced between the two in his office, appraising them quietly, interested in something that was beyond them.

"So Fenris, you are..."

Fenris frowned at the sound of his name while he let go of Astoria's arm, trusting her to stand by herself. "I'm what?"

"Well, I know that this is the child's mother... are you... her brother? Half-brother, I mean?"

Fenris immediately understood where Hollan was treading, what ground he was feeling out. Fenris stepped closer to Astoria as a wave of possessiveness rolled over him and he scowled at the man. "I'm the boy's father."

Hollan nodded and held his hands out peacefully. "I only ask out of curiosity. I don't mean to offend, or give you the impression that I'm trying to take something from you."

Astoria was glancing between the two, lingering on Fenris as she understood what was happening. Fenris nodded to the man, glad that he had gotten his point across.

A long and awkward moment passed, and Fenris caught Astoria staring at him, at his mouth particularly. He cleared his throat uneasily, jerking her out of her daze. He hated the desire he felt immediately igniting within him. This was not the time nor place to act on such desires.

"It was nice to meet you finally, Hollan. Please don't tell anyone that Fenris is here with me," it was Astoria that spoke first as she reached out and shook his hand.

"Of course. Take care, Astoria. And you also, Fenris." He shook Fenris' hand with a sincere smile. "Let me know if you two need anything, and this letter will go out within the hour."

They left the office and went to the front of the tavern – into the part of the rebellion branch that was open to the public. They found a corner table shrouded in dim light, sitting directly beside each other with their backs to the wall.

Fenris interlaced his fingers and put his elbows on the table, dropping his chin onto his fingers and shutting his eyes, willing himself to calm down despite all the new information he had learned. Astoria's thigh pressed against his and her head dropped to the side, her temple resting on his spiky shoulder.

He went still for a fleeting moment before opening his eyes and turning to look at her, without shoving her away.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly, his voice a velvety murmur. Astoria sighed and wrapped her arms around his arm, smiling.

She shrugged. "Is it bothering you?"

He smirked and pressed a tiny kiss against her head before putting his head in his hands and sighing. "I am trying to understand why Varania would need to be secretive... why couldn't she just write down where the boy is? Mail it to you. It'd save her from having to face you."

Astoria didn't answer him immediately. But when she did, her voice sounded tired and sorrowful. To him it sounded as if her soul was aching, as if she was tormented. "I don't know, Fenris. Varania is many things... but she wouldn't lie about this, about knowing where he is. She loved him."

"We can't trust her, Astoria. Don't lose sight of that."

"But Fenris..." she pressed her cheek against the outer edge of his armor, "she doesn't know you're with me. She has no reason to betray me. I've only ever helped her."

He growled. "She had no reason to betray me either, you forget."

"I know – I'm sorry. I mean that there is nothing she would get from betraying me. With you... there was a lot she could have gotten in return. That isn't right, I know, and there's no excuse for her. But with me... I have nothing that she would want."

"Didn't you... support her?" Fenris inquired, keeping his voice level. He tried to relax under her proximity and touch. He enjoyed it, quite so, but he couldn't ignore the fact that they were vulnerable here – open to attack in their dark corner of the tavern.

"She's a strong woman, Fenris. She was raised by your mother after all."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Avanna was hustling towards them, looking flustered in the dim tavern.

"Can I get you two something to drink?" She asked sheepishly, awkwardly. "Hollan said that the first drink for each of you is on him."

"Red wine for me," Fenris said.

"A pint, please."


	41. Estranged

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia, Bear Mage and Wicked Lullaby for your reviews!**

**I'm trying to truck through this material, but I can't just skip over it, so I'm trying to keep this part generally short.**

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><p>"Distract me, please," he growled later, three bottles of wine into the night.<p>

Astoria giggled beside him. "I-I'm sorry, I was watching Avanna. She has so much energy. What... what's wrong, Fenris?"

He scowled, squeezing her thigh which was pressed against the side of his own. In the past several hours, they had indulged in alcohol and conversation. The more Fenris drank, the bolder he felt, and the bolder he felt, the more he would touch her and talk, the more questions he would ask.

They had decided that they would go to the market in the morning and sit somewhere inconspicuously and watch to see if Varania would show up to meet the courier. Whether they would confront her there or wait for a reply was unknown.

Needless to say, Fenris' anxiety was skyrocketing, and the only solace he found was in Astoria's talking and the wine he drank.

Astoria saw his scowl and looked away, blushing. "I'm sorry. Um... ask me something."

He cleared his throat and swirled the wine in his glass. "What... uh..."

Astoria leaned into his side and trailed her fingers up the exposed parts of his arm, tracing his markings which were silvery in the dim light. "When you were little you used to play with a broom and pretend it was a sword."

Fenris cocked his head slightly, his eyes landing curiously on Astoria's face. "A broom?"

She nodded with a wide grin. "You knocked over all your mother's clay pots and bowls by the time you were eight. But you were exceptional, or so Sharna told me."

A sheepish look spread across Fenris' face, and it was obvious that he wanted to hear more but didn't know how to ask for it. Astoria gave him a knowing smile, a reassuring squeeze on his arm, and continued. "Of course, she never got angry with you for knocking over her plates and bowls, because of that damned smirk, she'd say. She encouraged you to keep going and keep practicing. And now look at you. A highly skilled and efficient warrior."

"And how about Lysander?"

Astoria smiled fondly with her blue eyes fixed on the table. "He always wanted to be a warrior, because I'd tell him about you, but personally I think he danced to the beat of his own drum. He loved archery, but he also loved playing with swords. What he'll use more of... I don't know."

Fenris gazed thoughtfully at his glass of crimson wine. "What was he shooting at in that drawing, with the slingshot?"

Astoria chuckled, her shoulders trembling with humor. "An old, mangy, feral cat. He didn't like cats much, but he just wanted to scare it off."

Fenris let himself smile, just barely, as he remembered Anders' obsession with cats. A small sense of pride flared in him at the thought of his own spawn doing something that the abomination would hate.

"What did you tell him about me?"

Fenris watched her with rapt, focused attention and secretly smiled at the blush that bloomed up her neck and spilled into her cheeks. He wondered if she was feeling as bold as he was, if she would do him the favor of the truth.

"I told him the truth," she began before taking a greedy gulp of her ale. Without meeting his gaze, she continued. "I told him how fierce you were, how you protected the three of us with all you had, how you loved us. I told him how good you were – you were, I mean are, a good person as well as skilled in everything you do, including swordsmanship."

Fenris squeezed her thigh and pressed a light kiss to her temple, noticing the lavender scent in her hair and the warmth of her skin on his lips.

"He would ask me why I didn't get married again. He thought if I could be that happy with one man, I could be happy with another." Fenris locked his fingers in hers and watched her carefully as she continued. "He was so sweet."

Fenris hummed low in his throat and stared guiltily at his wine. "I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I remembered marrying you... if you never came to find me and I still started remembering. I'd have this image of a woman in my mind – you - and I would have had no idea how to contact you, how to find you."

Astoria wormed one of her arms around him and ran her fingers softly up and down the curve of Fenris' spine. He tried not to shudder at the touch, but it was hard to control himself when she did such gentle and wonderful things. He wasn't used to touch being affectionate instead of violent.

"I would have lost my mind, I'm sure. To have a memory like... like our wedding, and have no way to find you... it would be an awful torment."

Astoria splayed her fingers over his spine, resting them against his tunic. She tried to hide the curiosity in her eyes, but Fenris knew better, he knew her too well. "Did the memory change anything for you?"

Fenris nodded solemnly. "It changed much. Now I feel... a sense of duty... towards you. I actually feel as though you are my wife, that there is a history between us when before I only had your word to go by."

"I imagine that you were angry with me for finding you at first. I imagine that you wouldn't have wanted to know me, that you saw me as some awful... imposter, a puppet on the strings controlled by someone who meant you harm."

He thoughtfully watched her and swallowed, surprised at her spot-on assessment of him. A shiver ran down him as she traced one of his ribs, one of the ones he had broken in Tantervale.

"I don't know if I was angry with you, particularly," he explained quietly, "but in the moment it was hard for me to believe that you were who you said you were. I was angry that Varania never said anything, that I had gone so long without ever knowing you. I wonder what I've missed as well...," Fenris' voice dropped and was hardly audible, "as your husband... I should have been there for you. I am sure I could have protected you from... something."

Astoria blinked back tears and bowed her head, touching her forehead to the outside of his shoulder. Fenris sucked in a shaky breath. He felt that he owed her honesty as much as it was like pulling teeth to say.

"I have survived, Fenris. As have you."

He shut his eyes and tried not to focus too heavily on her fingers running up and down the center of his spine. He didn't argue against her, just tried to breathe steadily. He curled his fingers around her thigh and held it against his own, taking a long swig of his wine.

"We have," he admitted somberly. "but you more than I, I feel."

"That isn't true," she said against his arm, "you've been running. You haven't had a chance to... do much more than survive."

"How did you do it? How did you... heal?"

Astoria pulled away from his shoulder and regarded him curiously. "Have I healed? I'm not so sure, Fenris. But... I had to step up and take care of everyone else in your absence."

He met her gaze, his green eyes swimming with thought. "I suppose duty overcomes... everything. That's why I'm here."

"Family, Fenris - _family_ overcomes everything."

He let half of his mouth curl up in a small smile, his eyes dancing. Astoria sighed warmly, grinning like a fool.

"What?" He asked after a moment.

"You have the most wonderful smile, Fenris. I've missed it."

He snorted and smirked, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pulling her close against his chest. "You have not seen your own then."

* * *

><p>Another bottle of wine later, Astoria had to lean Fenris against her to get him back into their shared room. She struggled with shutting the door behind them, and unfastened his breastplate and belt when he retched violently into a vase.<p>

In the morning, he groaned in pain as his head throbbed. But he still got up and ready for the day in grumpy silence, trying to keep whatever what left in his stomach down. The previous night was a blur for him. Somewhere after two (or was it three) bottles of wine, things became confusing. He remembered demanding that Astoria say something to distract him from thinking of the next day. He remembered most of the things she said. He remembered asking about Lysander. He remembered a lot of touching, vomiting in a vase while Astoria took his armor off.

He swore to himself and spared an inconspicuous glance at Astoria. She was gathering up her things, keeping to herself quietly.

Fenris frowned and picked up his belt off the floor. He normally had a high tolerance for his favored wine, but he had lost control last night in his anxiety.

There was a good chance he would see Varania today, and that thought made him nervous. He didn't know how he'd react to seeing her. As if reading his thoughts, Astoria spoke.

"Relax, my dear, we don't have to confront her. She won't even know that we're there."

He was just as surprised by the endearing term as he was by her assured tone. She gave him a small smile.

"We're just watching, today. Right?"

"Right," he said hoarsely before clearing his throat and pulling himself to his feet. He leaned down and picked up his breastplate, and a wave of dizziness nearly knocked him over. "Th... thank you for last night."

"I did nothing, Fenris, don't worry."

He nodded and put on his breastplate with glacier-like speed, trying to keep his head from pounding and sending him over the edge. Astoria watched him with concern as she pulled a her scarf over her hair and laid it out on her shoulders.

"We don't have to do this today, Fen-"

"No," he said, "we must. But first, I have an idea."

* * *

><p>Years of trying to blend in and hide from an unwelcome eye taught Fenris many things. Among them – no one ever questioned a pregnant woman. If he would be sitting down with Astoria, quite possibly for hours on end, in the middle of the market, it was accepted that they would draw a lot of attention. That is, unless Astoria was pregnant. She could act as though her feet were hurting her and she needed a rest. Even the merchants surely wouldn't bother her.<p>

Astoria went along with the idea. She stuffed some of the sheets of the bed artfully under her clothing and though she didn't look far along, she still looked convincing. Together they made their way from the tavern to the market.

Astoria spotted an empty stone bench where they could sit, and as she waddled convincingly towards it, Fenris scanned the area for the courier Hollan had told him about.

The man was across the bazaar, sitting at a booth as he folded clothing. He was bald, just as Hollan had described, but Fenris couldn't confirm a blind eye from their distance. He sat down beside Astoria on the bench and watched from under his hood.

The people of Minrathous paid them no mind – moving about their busy day while they shopped or passed by on their way to somewhere else. This part of the town was poorer than other parts, so not as many people walked by with their slaves – but there were still some.

Fenris could hardly stand it – seeing those pitiful souls bound and chained, trailing along behind their masters with their heads down and their eyes vacant. Astoria could sense his discomfort, and even reached out to squeeze his knee in reassurance, which he knew was a dangerous move.

He almost pushed her hand away or held it, but he realized how that might look to the general public. Behind closed doors, he was her equal. In private he could do things such as kiss her or raise his voice to her. But in public, in a city like Minrathous, he couldn't be her equal or it would draw too much attention. Even though his ears, white hair and markings were covered by the scarf Astoria had bought him, he still had to play the part of her inferior for their own safety, as much as it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Even though it was morning, the bazaar in Minrathous was blisteringly hot. Fenris, being as hungover as he was, thought he was going to pass out several times. He worried that he would fall ill again, as he had been recently. If he were to get sick then, how would Astoria get him back to the tavern?

Time passed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Waves of nausea passed over Fenris and he thought he was going to be sick several times, but he managed to keep it down. His intense gaze rarely left the courier's booth.

If Fenris had blinked, he'd probably have missed the exchange. It was early in the afternoon when a small, mousy, red-haired elf weaved through the bazaar to the courier's booth. She kept her eyes low with her hair in a messy bun at the back of her head.

_Varania._

Fenris was sure he was going to vomit, and he leaned forward gripping his knees until his knuckles had gone white. He watched with scrutiny as Varania wordlessly pulled out a roll of vellum to hand to the courier.

She froze when she saw the vellum that he had in return for her. Withdrawing her own letter, she took the vellum from the courier. Seeming surprised, she turned away from the courier and broke the seal on the letter.

Then she turned back to him and said something to him. He shrugged and shook his head before answering.

Varania walked away briskly and shoved the letter in the pocket of her worn trousers.

Astoria stood up and stepped towards Varania's exiting form. Fenris reached out instinctively and took her by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I can't – I can't wait, Fenris." Astoria's eyes were wide with fear and sorrow. "She knows where he is, I have to-"

"No." Fenris stood as well and shook his head, his tone icy and harsh. "No, I cannot confront her now. Astoria," he warned, with his fingers still around her wrist but not tight, "please."

She opened her mouth to speak, freezing in place. Her brow was creased with worry. He hated that he was doing this to her, but he shook his head. "No, she'll probably run from us if we go to her now."

Fenris pulled her against him. "I'm sorry, but we can't, not yet."

"Why?" She whispered hopelessly against his chest.

"We need to see what she's planning. We need to be prepared if it's a trap."

She clutched him at the sides and a sob escaped her. "She was all I had after you left, your mother died and they took Lysander from me..."

Fenris frowned as he led her away from the curious gaze of the commoners in the bazaar. "You don't need her, and neither do I."

Astoria shook her head against his chest but didn't respond verbally as Fenris guided her back through the streets towards the tavern.

* * *

><p>It was only the next day they got their answer. Astoria had been a wreck, barely able to focus on anything as she seemed lost in her own nightmare of all the things that Lysander had been through. Fenris reminded her to eat, to drink, to talk to him because he felt as if he didn't distract her, she'd irreversibly reduce herself to tears.<p>

So when a curt knock came at the door of their small room, it was Fenris who answered and took the letter that the elf handed him. It was Fenris who slid back down to his seat against the wall as Astoria lay on the ground, her eyes vacant. It was Fenris who opened the letter and began to read aloud, though doing so made him nervous and embarrassed because he was not as fast a reader as he had hoped.

"_Astoria. It pleases me to know that you are in Minrathous and the road had served you well. I am willing to give you all my knowledge on your son if you agree to meet me in person. I suggest the alley beside Abella's Apothecary, on Thursday night at 10pm. If you would prefer somewhere else or at another time, please let me know. If not, I look forward to seeing you_. _Sincerely, a friend_."

Fenris met Astoria's gaze levelly before he tossed the vellum to the side. Varania's handwriting was so clear on the letter that he hated her even more for it. Did Varania think Astoria enough of a fool to not notice the identical handwriting?

"She wishes us to meet her in an alley at nighttime," he repeated, as if she hadn't understood through his reading of the letter. "She's setting us up."

Astoria sighed exhaustedly. "But why?"

"She has to know that I'm here," he growled in frustration, "she just has to."

"What would she want from you?"

Fenris extended his arms out and looked at Astoria pointedly. "These markings are worth more than their weight in diamonds, Astoria."

She did not hide her gaze as she followed the trail of his lyrium veins. Then she met his eyes and she frowned solemnly. "I had no idea."

Fenris dropped his arms, his hands closing on his thighs as he shrugged. "How could you? Danarius never told me exactly how many sovereigns that translates to, but I don't have to be a fool to know that magisters could send slavers after me for the rest of my lifetime and that price would never touch what I am worth, especially in the event of my capture."

"No one is going to capture you."

"That is dangerous thinking," he said with narrowed eyes.

Astoria scoffed. "I suppose that is not my strong suit."

Fenris beckoned her over with one hand and she moved to sit next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders and Astoria rested her head against his chest. "I'm afraid, Fenris."

He put his cheek against her hair. "Of what?"

"So much." She took a long breath in. "Everything. If I say, I'm sure I'll just... cry."

"I'll be with you."

Against him, she relaxed and slid her arms around him. She was probably smiling, but he couldn't tell. "Then I think we'll be fine."


	42. Meeting Varania

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia (I am SO glad that you love Astoria so much!), Bear Mage and Wicked Lullaby for your reviews!**

**I am so mortified - I found a fic on this site that is quite similar to this one. At the moment I can't remember who wrote it or what it's called, because I didn't read it - but it even has a character called "Lysander" (which I suppose makes sense because it's means 'He who is Freed'). Ah! I can't believe it - I really thought I was the first one to have this idea of Fenris having a wife from before - but I think I'm not. I'm going to write something in in the first chapter that addresses this - I feel like a fraud, haha.**

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><p>Astoria's reply to Varania was simple – <em>I will see you there.<em>

By the time Thursday came, Fenris' nerves were shot. As the long and hot day stretched on and on, he found himself fidgeting and snapping at Astoria when he hadn't meant to. She had done nothing wrong, but everything irritated him.

In an effort to relax him, they went to the docks and watched the sun set. Though Fenris was sweating from the unbearable heat, he would not loosen his scarf from around his head and chin, nor get rid of the black robe he wore over his armor to conceal his markings. To anyone, he looked menacing and mysterious, like a wolf stalking its prey. He was fine with that.

The golden light of the early evening lit up Astoria's face and made her look more youthful, less weary and worrisome. The breeze that swept up to greet them from the ocean was the only thing that brought any relief from the humid heat, and it tossed Astoria's curls over her shoulders, wisps of her hair dancing across her face.

Where Fenris was a wolf, Astoria was something more elegant, calm and beautiful. She was a deer. The thought made him scoff. It was a dangerous mix, but it worked for him.

A question hung between them in limbo – one that threatened to disrupt whatever they had. Fenris wondered what Astoria would do if he were to kill Varania later. Varania was Astoria's best friend, she had said. It would be unfair to take that from her, he knew that, be he wasn't sure if he could still let his sister go unharmed. After all, she had betrayed Astoria as well by keeping Lysander's location a secret.

Several fishing boats were preparing to depart for the night. Men scurried about on the docks and piers, loading supplies onto the ships and yelling and swearing in all sorts of languages. As multilingual as he was, Fenris still could not understand everything that they were saying.

In the midst of the busy afternoon, the two of them were completely ignored and unnoticed. Astoria shivered beside Fenris despite the terrible heat of the day, and he knew that she was just as nervous as him, but she concealed it.

"Do you want to spar?"

Fenris quirked an eyebrow. Did sparring relax her as much as it did for him? He wanted to – they hadn't sparred since they had arrived in Minrathous because they didn't have enough room to do so anywhere.

"Where?"

Her blue eyes scanned the harbor curiously. "We could go on the roof of the tavern."

"Let's go," he answered in a low growl. Now that he thought about it, the prospect of sparring with Astoria was more tempting than ever. He needed to blow off some steam, and he figured with how rude he had been to Astoria that day, she did too.

Astoria gave him a faint smile and turned.

* * *

><p>Long after the sun had fallen, they had sparred. Round after round of intense weapon and hand-to-hand combat left Fenris exhausted to the point of almost feeling dizzy. He was not alone – Astoria's cheeks were flushed and she gasped for air as he rolled off of her under the moonlight, on top of the roof of the tavern.<p>

Regret hit him like an ice-cold wave. He shouldn't have let himself get so tired from the sparring – not with the meeting with Varania so close. He should have stopped sparring with Astoria an hour ago. The session had gone wonderfully. It took several rounds of Fenris channeling his anxiety before he could relax and become less of a menacing and deadly whirlwind to Astoria. Once he had relaxed, he could finally enjoy the sparring and fall into his own hypnotic trance that overtook him in such times.

"How much time do you think has passed?" Fenris asked once he caught his breath. He hoped he'd have the time to rest and recuperate in time to meet Varania.

Astoria looked up at the sky, chewing on her bottom lip in doubt. "I think we're running late."

She ignored the curse he muttered under his breath and lifted his sword from where it lay beside her daggers and handed to him.

Worry bloomed through Fenris as he strapped the sword to his back and put his cloak on. He was exhausted. How would he fight off any attackers if this were a trap? Was he willing to sacrifice so much to do something for Astoria?

He staggered for a brief moment with the weight on his back as he bent down to retrieve his scarf. He stood and breathed slowly before wrapping the black scarf around his head and chin, disguising him effectively by hiding his snowy hair and markings.

They weaved through the streets of Minrathous. Starving beggars seemed to cower from them – specifically from Fenris' intimidating stalking form as he stepped quietly behind Astoria. Sleazy men gathered outside of the brothel with mugs of ale in hand, guards patrolled the gallows which also happened to be where the new slaves were sold to whoever had coin.

Abella's Apothecary was located at a dead end, where only alleyways led away from the small square the shop shared with others. As they came into view of it, Fenris halted alongside Astoria, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

The square was silent, bathed in the pale moonlight with a few flickering lanterns hanging outside of the shops. Chatter and music could be heard from other parts of the city, but this part was silent aside from a small murmur that neither Fenris nor Astoria could make out.

She turned to him and said, "wait here. If this is a trap she won't know you're here and it'll only be me."

He wanted to protest this idea. He thought it better to be beside her in the event of a trap, but she did have a point. Since Varania didn't know that he would be with her, she wouldn't be trying to trap him, but her. Fenris slipped into a shadow as Astoria stepped boldly into the square and approached the alleyway beside Abella's Apothecary shop.

The murmur ceased, Fenris could tell. He crept through the shadows, slowly unsheathing his blade without a whisper of a sound. He watched Astoria where she stood in the pale light, her fingers flexing as if she were going to reach for her daggers.

Then firelight lit up her face and Fenris heard a familiar voice.

"Astoria?"

He felt his stomach drop, plummet from his chest. He had known it would be Varania, but to hear her voice again was almost too much for him to bear. It felt like a punch to the stomach. He rolled his weary shoulders and stepped closer to Astoria, still out of sight, a wolf about to lunge at his prey.

"Varania," Astoria spoke hesitantly. Then a brief moment passed. A flutter of a sound, a blink of an eye and Astoria was holding her daggers out defensively, her brow knitted in the dim light. "Who are you with?"

Fenris shifted his weight, now only roughly six feet from Astoria. He'd be able to help her if she needed it.

"Uh, Astoria, I wanted to apologize for everything I've done, and I know I can't -"

"Who is that?" Astoria demanded, her voice taking on a tone that Fenris had never heard.

He listened intently to a shifting of armor, and heavy footsteps approaching.

"Oh, Maker's breath," Astoria gasped, her daggers falling to the ground precariously. "Hunter, is that...?"

"Astoria," Fenris froze as he heard the masculine voice answer levelly. Then he heard more shifting in the heavy armor, more footsteps, and suddenly a man was embracing Astoria, completely clothed in familiar Kirkwall Templar garb.

Fenris' head swam, but he wasn't sure why. Astoria hesitantly hugged the man back, and Fenris heard a choked sob leave her. A moment passed and Astoria pulled away from him, shaking.

The man noticed Fenris and drew out a sword. "Who are you?" He demanded, peering into the shadows where Fenris stood.

"Astoria?" Fenris heard Varania ask. "You brought someone?"

Astoria put a hand on Hunter's shoulder to get him to lower his weapon. "He's with me."

Fenris didn't lower his sword as he stared at the man, challenging him to do something. Light footsteps went to Astoria, and suddenly Varania was standing near him, holding a torch to shed light on the edge of the alley.

Upon seeing him, Varania gasped and clutched Astoria's arm and her eyes bulged fearfully. Fenris snarled at her and she cowered beside the man. "Protect me from him," she told him, grabbing his arm and placing most of her body behind him.

Astoria seemed completely speechless for a few moments while Fenris and the man had their own standoff. Fenris felt a wave of dizziness swell in him and inside, he began to panic. This was how he felt before he became ill. He couldn't get sick now!

Astoria wheeled on Varania, her face anguished and angry. "You lied!"

Varania's green eyes widened more, if possible and she shook her head in disagreement. Fenris took a step closer, raising his sword slightly. In response, the man squared his shoulders and Varania yelped, taking Astoria by the arm.

"No, I didn't lie -"

"Where is my son? Hunter, lower your sword, he's my husband."

At that, Hunter lowered his sword but did not sheath it, and Fenris strapped his own sword to his back. He figured that he could easily kill Varania and Hunter, if needed, without it. Hunter, Fenris realized in the torchlight, was a human. The color of his eyes was indecipherable in the dim light, but he had mahogany hair, like Astoria's, that was only a couple inches long as it began to curl. He was a handsome man with a gaze that told Fenris he had been through much hardship.

This must be Astoria's brother, Fenris realized.

Panic hit Fenris in a way he had never imagined. Astoria wasn't alone anymore – she had no need for him. How monumental and wonderful it had felt for him to finally have a place and a purpose – it all felt as if it was about to be ripped from him any moment.

Another wave of dizziness threatened to pull him under into oblivion as Fenris watched Varania's eyes flicker to him. His sister maneuvered so that Astoria was between him and her, and he growled at the thought of Varania using Astoria as a shield.

"You... found him," Varania said, ignoring the question. "Astoria, he's going to kill me!"

"You'll be lucky if I don't!" Fenris managed to growl, but his tone lacked the venom he had intended – he felt as if his words were slurring.

Astoria twisted in Varania's grip to look at Fenris. He tried to relax his scowl and found the edges of his vision blurring. Astoria's eyes widened in worry and she broke from Varania's grasp and went to him.

Astoria put her hands softly on his chest. Fenris swayed and grasped her for balance.

"Astoria, we have to... leave," he whispered, "it's happening."

"Oh, no, Fenris," Astoria looked at Varania and Hunter, and back to Fenris, "are you sure?"

He swallowed and gave a half-hearted nod – the kind soldiers give when they surrender. The blackness engulfed his vision and his legs went boneless. The last thing he heard was Astoria's voice.

"Varania, Hunter... I need your help."


	43. This is What I Know

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia for reviewing the last chapter, and also thank you to all those who have been reviewing and favoriting/watching, it means the world to me and pushes me onwards!**

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><p>The last thing I ever expected was for Fenris to fall ill during this meeting. As he sagged to the ground, I struggled to hold him upright.<p>

Hunter jumped to my aid.

The sight of him, here, with me, has not sunk in yet. My brother. _My brother_. My brother who I abandoned so many years ago is now and finally here with me. Varania brought him here. I didn't ask her to, I don't even know how she remembers his name – because I've told her about him before, long ago. I have so many questions, but nothing is more important than knowing where my baby is.

But now Fenris is unconscious, and by feeling his forehead, I know that_ it_ has happened. He has that fever again. How long he'll be under, I have no idea. I don't know if he can hear us – if he is thinking and just unable to respond. He groans as Hunter hooks his arm over his shoulders and lifts my husband to his feet.

I get on the other side of Fenris and shoot a look at Varania. Hunter does a great job at supporting Fenris' weight, so I'm essentially useless, but I take Fenris' sword off his back and carry it. It lightens Hunter's load by about twenty pounds and I wonder how Fenris can carry this around all day, everyday.

Varania offers us her place, which is apparently only two blocks away. Thankfully so, because I would have no idea how to get Fenris back to the tavern in the state he's in now.

Fenris groans as if in pain as Hunter brings him along. I won't leave Fenris' side, even if Hunter is walking slower than I would like to. Varania is looking at me as if she doesn't know what to make of me anymore. As if I'm not the person she used to have comfort her, as if I'm not the person she lived with for years.

"What?" I snap, although I really want to scream at her and demand to know where my son is.

As soon as I say it, I regret my tone with her. She averts her gaze and scampers along in front of us. I see her fiddle with her hands in front of her and the old Varania I remember peaks through. The Varania that was a slave and never spoke up or had anything go right for her. The Varania that would have been raped if Fenris hadn't killed that man so many years ago.

But she betrayed Fenris, and I owe it to him to be on his side because no one else is. I look at my husband sadly and give my brother a polite, small smile. It's all I can manage because I think everything inside of me is crumbling away.

"Is he alright?" Hunter asks.

I never expected him to sound like such a man. Granted, last time I saw him he was a teenager. Now he's fully grown. I know I should apologize for leaving our family, for running away to join those damn Orlesian troubadours. But I don't feel sorry for leaving, I feel sorry that I never bothered to write him particularly after I found out where he was. I feel sorry that I didn't visit him in Kirkwall.

I travelled halfway across Thedas to find someone who didn't remember me, and I was too afraid and ashamed to find the only person who I truly did have left at the time.

I nod and swallow, and I can feel Varania watching me.

"This has been happening to him lately," I say.

Varania brings us to a small and modest home, but it's clean inside and moderately furnished. Where she got this money from, I have no clue. Hunter seems to know the place already. He brings Fenris into a bedroom with one small bed and lays him down. I lean the sword against the wall and sit on the bed beside my husband.

Hunter asks Varania for a cold, wet cloth. I hear a conversation somewhere in another part of the house, but Hunter is in here with me.

"Who is she talking to?" I ask, glancing at Hunter before I push the white hair out of Fenris' face and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. I feel Hunter watching me carefully. He's probably wondering why I married a white-haired elven man.

"A woman she works with agreed to watch the baby," he says. I hear his sharp intake of breath when I remove the cloak from Fenris and pull his scarf away from him, revealing his markings.

"What baby?" I realize, suddenly, that this is something I know nothing of.

He rolls his shoulders and I wipe the sweat from Fenris' brow with the back of my hand. "Varania's baby."

I furrow my brow and snap my gaze to him. "What? She has a baby?"

He nods. "A girl."

I blink at him, dumfounded. Fenris moans in pain and before I've had time to regain my composure and look away from my brother, Varania comes into the room with a blue rag in her hands. She stands an arm's length away and hands it to me, looking completely uneasy.

She wrings her hands out as I turn back to Fenris, completely speechless, and put the cold cloth on his head. He moans softly as I smooth it across his clammy forehead and shut my eyes.

"I need a minute," I say. I don't open my eyes until I hear two pairs of feet leave and shut the door behind them.

I take a deep breath. _You can do this, Astoria_, I tell myself. As I mentally try to gain my bearings, I work to undo Fenris' breastplate, belt, gauntlets and then his spiky pauldrons. I sing softly to him, but my voice cracks and I feel dizzy and as if I'm going to explode.

_Lysander._

His face flashes in my mind as I look at Fenris and I know that I have to be strong. As hard as it is to face my brother, I have to do it.

I lean down and kiss Fenris' cheek before getting up and leaving the room to face just some of my fears.

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><p>An hour later, this is what I know:<p>

When Varania arrived in Minrathous after meeting Fenris, she sent letters to my brother. She remembered what I had said about him once I had found out where he was. She wanted to get him to meet me, as a sort of peace offering between her and I, so that I could forgive her for abandoning the love of my life.

I learn that she had been pregnant at the time of meeting Fenris, though she hadn't known. I asked her who the father was, and she got a vacant look in her eye and I knew that either the answer was too awful for me to hear or she didn't know. But Varania was never "loose," so the possibility of her not knowing the father is actually quite sad to hear. Had Varania been raped, and no one had been able to help her? I shudder at the thought of it.

She then explains to me what she knows about Lysander. She says that the magister, Valinius, has him. I should have known all along – since that is the same magister who raided Danarius' mansion and likely has all of the information known to history on lyrium warriors. Varania solemnly agrees with me.

When Fenris killed Danarius, Varania was lucky enough to have a lot of gold on her. She took Danarius' money from where they had been staying at an inn in Kirkwall and fled. She was able to afford this home. Since being back, she has worked at Abella's Apothecary, had a child, and stayed out of the dangerous game of politics. She has not tried becoming another magister's apprentice, because now she has enough money where that is not a necessity.

When I ask her why she couldn't put this in a letter, she tells me that she wanted to reunite me with Hunter. She tells me that Lysander being with Valinius is not exactly a good thing. Apparently she had met the man several times, and he was a madman.

That is all I can get from her. I have come to Minrathous and have learned information that I would have gotten anyway when I raid Valinius' mansion with the rebellion. It feels like a slap in the face.

I want to leave immediately and go to Asariel, where the magister lives, but I cannot. Not with Fenris in this condition, moaning in agony and writhing on the bed in the other room. I certainly can't leave him here to wake up in his sister's house – he'd surely murder her and then come after me. I have to wait.

Varania excuses herself to go to sleep, leaving Hunter and I alone. We talk late into the night, and several times I'm reduced to tears as he recounts the years I've lost, the pain I brought on them when I left. He tells me of how our parents died valiantly at war, how we still have the home near the cliffs but he can't bear to live there just yet. He explains that I can live there if I'd like – in the will, it says that if I am found, it can be shared with him.

He tells me he's married now and trying for children. His wife sounds decent enough, and I'm glad that my brother has found some solace because I have never been able to face how much pain I have brought him.

"Your husband is good to you, then?" He asks me early in the morning, when my nerves and emotions have run dry and I can barely keep my eyes open but he still asks questions and I know I owe him answers.

I scoff and tighten my grip around my mug. "He does not remember me, mostly."

Hunter nods in understanding. "Varania told me." I see him set his jaw firmly and look at me with his blue eyes, so similar to my own. "Why have you never bothered to contact me?"

What little tears I have left spill because I have to explain myself. It's the right thing to do, even though it's so difficult.

I lay down in the bed with Fenris just before dawn. Because it soothes me as much as it does him, I run my fingers through his hair until I fall into a dreamless sleep beside him.


	44. Confrontation

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage (I completely agree with you - I may do some tweaking on the last chapter, but I know some people don't like the 1st person and I try to keep it limited so that they're almost chapters that can be skipped over) and Fallon-Idalia for reviewing the last few chapters!**

**Here is a nice, long chapter for you guys as a thanks for putting up with the last couple short chapters.**

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><p><em> Leto poured the horse's cornmeal into their individual feed bins, grunting each time he lifted the massive burlap sack onto his shoulder. The unmistakable stench of the stables, Leto was used to, but it was the sweltering mid-summer days that made his nose scrunch up – the way the heat made the smell all the stronger.<em>

_ He finished pouring the last horse's meal and brought the heavy sack to the tack room. He dropped the bag onto the ground, leaned it against the wooden wall and left the stables, wiping his palms on his torn trousers. His clothing was the worst off of all in his household of three women and himself. He traded whatever he was given between the other slaves in order to get them a little extra, even though they told him not to._

_ Leto didn't care how he looked much. If Astoria was attracted to him, by some miracle or another, then he let his appearance be._

_ Leto walked alongside the stables towards his quarters where he lived with his family and Astoria. He ducked inside, and upon realizing that no one was there, turned and left._

_ He crossed the meadow that connected the stables to the magister's courtyard, with the stone mansion rising up beyond that. Cicadas buzzed from their trees, the overbearing heat from the tropical sun began to lift slowly, and thick, threatening clouds hung off to the east, moving in from Seheron._

_ The tall, jungle grass brushed against his ankles, and the timid and inexplicable quiet of the afternoon spread over the world like a soft blanket. Leto knew that in some parts of Thedas, it was considered wintertime – a time of cold and snow, but he had never seen snow, didn't know what cold was. He wiped the sweat from his brow and went across the field, maintaining just enough of a quick pace as to not be accused of being lazy._

_ And then he heard it. A struggle, off to the right side of the courtyard._

_ Leto paused, knitting his brow and balling his fists, trying to listen._

_ It was a woman, or a girl. Something fell over. Whatever was happening, it needed an intervention._

_ Leto sprinted, not knowing who or what he would be walking into. By the time he reached the wall, his feet were bleeding from the rocks, shells and jungle grass that he had crossed. He was short of breath and dizzy from the sudden exertion, and then he saw it._

_ Varania was struggling feebly with a guard – a grown man clothed in steel armor who had his sister half-dressed against a wall with her mouth bloody and a hand clasped against it._

_ Leto felt sick as soon as he saw it. He didn't make a choice to intervene, because he was already doing so while he still processed it._

_ It was all a flurry what happened next. Leto had the advantage initially – he picked up the nearest object (a rake) and was able to stagger the man backwards before he leapt forward, ready to rip the man's throat out. He vaguely heard Varania gasping as her body collapsed into the ground, trying to recover and cover herself._

_ His sister._

_ Leto thought of only her when he ripped the guard's helm off and whaled into his skull with all the power he could manage. He had heard stories of people gaining extraordinary strength while in a crisis, and as Leto pummeled the man, he felt dizzy and drunk with it, he felt as if he were above the consequences._

_ And there would be consequences, he knew that. But nothing mattered other than keeping Varania safe. He wanted to send a message, that he protected three women, and that anyone who tried to cross him or them would pay dearly._

_ And the guard paid dearly. Leto did walk away with blood seeping from his nose and lips, but at least he walked away with his life, and that was more than anyone could say for the guard._

_ "Varania," Leto gasped, minutes later as he slumped against the wall. Varania was brushing his black hair away from his eyes, trembling in fear._

_ "Leto – they're going to kill you!" She managed shrilly, shaking. "You killed a guard!"_

_ "Go home, Varania, go."_

_ Varania pulled her torn clothing up and around, trying to cover herself completely. Her green eyes lingered on the dead guard at Leto's feet. She stood there, too still and frightened to move, before Leto spun her by the shoulders._

_ "GO!" He commanded hoarsely. Varania disappeared around the corner of the wall and Leto went to the middle of the courtyard, ready to confess, ready to die for his actions._

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><p>The nightmares that engulfed Fenris' world lasted for what felt like forever. He dreamt of awful things, terrors racking his body and delirium running its course, something he was still not quite used to.<p>

This new memory replayed itself between the nightmares involving magisters, running and paranoia – and it was almost worse. In somewhat of a half-consciousness, he knew that he hated Varania and that he didn't want to see himself protecting her. But his insight in his own delirium was limited. His fever gave him a distorted lens in which he saw life.

When he opened his eyes, the room around him was dark aside from dim light from outside, in the hallway, flooding in. He tried to register where he was, but had no clue. Panic shot through him, but he heard Astoria's voice, somewhere. She didn't sound distressed, though he didn't know what she was saying. He still took that as a good sign.

He assessed his situation. Everything in him ached and hurt, and his throat was dry the Silent Plains. His armor was off and laid out on the floor beside the bed on which he lay. A cool cloth clung to his brow which he peeled off and dropped to the wooden floor.

He hated waking up from these fevers. Not knowing where he was, how long had passed, what had happened was all too much to handle. It reminded him of waking up for the first time and having nothing – no memories. Fenris hated not being in control of this much.

As he remembered the last several minutes of the last time he was fully conscious, Fenris felt his stomach plummet. What had happened after he had gone under? What kind of person had Varania proved to be?

Fenris laboriously sat up, and it seemed like all the blood rushed from his head. Light-headed, he slowly got to his feet and picked up his sword though it felt as if it had doubled in its weight. He was weak and weary, exhausted.

He crept silently into the hallway and looked up and down its dark length. Drawings were hung up in small frames on the walls, and he realized where he must be. Varania's home.

He heard bits of a conversation and he stalked noiselessly down the hall to listen to it.

"No, he doesn't remember much," Astoria was saying, "he remembers the wedding, part of the competition, a couple other things."

A brief silence passed before Varania spoke. "He remembers the wedding?"

"Yes."

"That's great, Astoria. Does... does he remember me, at all?"

Fenris paused as he heard Astoria sigh. "If he has any particular memories of just you and him, I don't know. I don't know if he tells me everything he sees."

"Does he want to kill me?"

"I... I don't know, Varania."

"Does he listen to you?"

Fenris felt himself frowning as he wondered where that other man was – Hunter, he recalled.

"Why?"

"Can you please not let him hurt me? Tell him I'm a mother now."

Fenris' mouth dropped open. Varania had a child? Why had Astoria never mentioned this to him? He gripped his sword tightly and prepared to step into the room, but Astoria spoke.

"I wouldn't condone a man killing an infant's mother, but you need to apologize to him. You did an awful thing, Varania. Have you thought of what your mother would think of you – betraying her '_little moon_'?"

At that moment, Fenris wanted to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her to death for validating him, for standing up for him and his struggle.

Varania's reply sounded solemn, at least. "Yes, I will. And I know. I don't deserve a family. Mother would have preferred you to me as a daughter."

Astoria sighed, a young woman who was too weary and wise for her age. "But you _were_ the daughter, you are his _sister,_ Varania. You should have acted like one."

"I know."

Astoria groaned, and Fenris leaned against the wall, physically still feeling weak and struggling slightly to support his own weight.

'You love him," Varania observed softly, almost affectionately. That was how Hawke's mother spoke to him. "Still, even after all these years -"

"Varania," Astoria's voice came as a warning which Varania did not heed.

"You still love him after so long, where he doesn't even remember you. The way you care for him... Why have you not moved on? You should. Even _he_ is not the Leto we remember, despite what you say."

Fenris held his breath as he listened, finding himself equally curious to hear the answer.

"I can't... find someone else, not with everything with Lysander happening. I can't rest until he's back with me."

A brief silence passed and Fenris found himself frowning, staring at the darkness in the hallway.

"So why find him?"

"I... was alone, and I was sick of it. I missed him, I wanted him beside me. The road is long, Varania. It is hard when you're alone."

"And afterwards?" Varania inquired softly.

"I can't say," Astoria explained, "There have been times it would have been helpful to have someone. Mainly, it would be good to have another person protecting Lysander. But could I ever love again? I suppose I'd have to move on eventually."

Fenris felt a shiver run through him. A surge of lightheadedness told him that he needed to sit down. He shoved off the wall and turned, heading back to the room, wishing he hadn't eavesdropped.

The thought of Astoria finding someone else and moving on unnerved him, though he knew that it shouldn't have. He had no claim on her, even if she was his wife. Maker, he hadn't even bothered to show his interest in her through anything more than a few moments of affectionate gestures. Why wouldn't she move on? He felt like a fool.

Fenris stumbled into the room he came from and put his sword away as he tried to make sense of it all. The sound of the sword coming to rest against the wall pierced the silence as it fell over and crashed into the floor, and Fenris silently cursed the noise that would now draw attention to him.

Sure enough, he could hear footsteps approaching from down the hall. He sat down on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, as Astoria stepped into the room.

"You're awake," she said almost breathlessly, nervously. "How are you feeling, Fenris?"

He blinked at her from under his white hair before dropping his head and gesturing. "Fine. What... fill me in, please."

She nodded and came to sit beside him. "You remember meeting with Varania, yes? Well, you became ill and my brother, Hunter, brought you back here. We're in Varania's house. I'm sorry, there was no way I would have been able to carry you back to the tavern."

Fenris narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "So there was no trap."

"No trap, Fenris. It turns out that Varania wanted to reunite me with my brother to apologize to me for what she did to you."

He growled in response, but Astoria put a hand on his thigh gently. "Fenris... Valinius has Lysander, the magister that raided Danarius' estate. We'll be able to kill two birds with one stone."

He looked at the door, contemplating jumping up and confronting his sister. Astoria surely had all of her information, there was no reason to keep Varania alive. It had been useless information, even though he knew that Varania had probably thought they had known nothing. They would have gone to Valinius' anyway - there was no more use for his witch of a sister.

Fenris stood abruptly, swaying slightly on his bare feet. Panic flashed across Astoria's face.

"Fenris?"

Fenris went as fast as he could to the doorway and into the hallway, his body slamming into the wall as he staggered. His legs still felt like jelly and his entire body ached as if he had ran for miles and miles.

"Fenris, please don't hurt anyone," Astoria pleaded behind him, knowing better than to touch him. He needed answers from Varania, or her heart in his fist.

He staggered into the room where she had been sitting with Astoria - a simple dining room. Varania sat at the head of a simple wooden table, her fingers around a mug. As soon as she saw Fenris, she tightened her grip on her mug and her eyes went wide, but she made no attempt to move away. It was as if she had always known this would happen, as if she had accepted her fate.

"Fenris!" Astoria called from just behind him as he came to a stop a foot away from Varania, his lean body heaving with ragged breaths and looming precariously over her.

His anger and humiliation of being betrayed by his own sister resurfaced like a monster that had been brewing inside him for over a year now. The force of it made him lose his balance for a moment, his hip slamming into the table, rattling the plates and glasses on it.

"You witch!" He snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. He found it difficult to say anything more in the moment, found it difficult to think straight and keep from seeing red. He knew he had to align his thoughts.

Astoria's fingers slid tentatively around one of his bare arms.

It was meant to be a gentle touch, and it was. But Fenris reacted poorly, like always when he was in a state. The room was bathed in a blue glow that left him out of breath as he whirled on Astoria, wrenching his arm from her light grasp.

He took her wrist, struggling to regain control over himself. He couldn't explode on Astoria, he knew that. She hadn't done anything wrong to him, ever.

"Don't!" He bellowed. Maker, he knew he didn't want to hurt Astoria. He let go of her wrist in

Astoria jumped around to stand beside Varania as the unmistakable wailing of a baby filled the tense home, startled by the shouting. Fenris kept his lyrium ignited, glaring daggers at Astoria to move out of his way. But he knew he wouldn't hurt her to get to Varania. Even in his rage, he wouldn't give Astoria a reason to regret finding him.

"Why did you betray me?" He shouted at Varania, unable to contain himself, his shame and fury exploding from him. "I can remember a few things – and I have _never_ hurt you. How could you do such a thing?" He slammed a fist down onto the table and Varania yelped in surprise, her face a mask of sheer terror.

The baby's wailing rose in volume to a scream.

"Fenris," Astoria said, her voice low enough that he had to stop shouting and almost hold his breath to listen to her, "please."

He met her blue eyes, framed with dark circles from what he imagined came from caring for him for however long he had been out for. Varania scooted back in the chair, putting a couple inches between them, and slid from it.

Even as his sister stepped around to put the table between him and her, he knew it was a flimsy obstacle in the way of his revenge. He could easily flip the table, perhaps more so if he were not so exhausted and weak.

He watched Varania run away, towards the sound of the baby screaming. When she was out of view he let out a masculine yell of frustration and picked up the mug his sister had been drinking from.

In one movement, he sent the thing flying into one of her framed drawings, shattering the glass and the mug all over the floor. He let his lyrium fall dim and he swayed again on his feet, exhaustion overpowering all that he had. Igniting his lyrium, or perhaps the exertion that came with screaming and flinging objects about, had taken most of what little energy he had left in him.

Astoria eased him into a wooden chair at the table. "There, there, my dear."

How could she call him that after he had just went off like that? Fenris shut his eyes and dropped his head in his hands. He could vaguely hear the baby's wailing begin to quiet, could vaguely hear Astoria preparing something in the kitchen behind him.

Minutes later, he felt a plate of food being nudged in between his elbows on the table. His hunger flared up and he allowed himself to eat some of the chicken and vegetables put before him. It was better than what he had been eating since... his birthday. Thinking of all Astoria had gone through to make that day special for him tugged at his heart, the memory one of the few that was near and dear to his heart. She had done so much for him. He knew that because she requested it, he shouldn't hurt Varania.

Astoria sat beside him, solemnly looking at the wall where he had chucked the mug.

"I wronged Eshan when I stole from his farm. But... when he saw that I was pregnant, he pushed that aside. I'm not saying it was easy for him, but he did it. I know Varania has done awful things, Fenris, but she's a mother now. Can you find it in you to show her the kindness that a stranger once showed me?"

He hardly had the energy to do it, but he glared at her. Somewhere inside of him, he knew she was right. He owed Eshan for saving her. "But you were trying to survive. Varania went out of her way to send me back into a lifetime of slavery."

Astoria frowned, a line forming on her brow. "She was trying to survive, just as I was. Becoming Danarius' apprentice was the only way out for her at the time. She lived in the streets, Fenris. She was attacked regularly, before she went to work for Ahriman and after, before Danarius offered her a way out."

"She didn't have to leave you at the farm. She would have been fine."

Astoria nodded, speaking softly. "And I didn't have to run away when I was still a child. I could have stayed at home, married the man my family had chosen and never have to worry about feeding myself or my children."

Fenris looked away in shame, at the food on his plate as the baby's crying seemed to calm. Eventually he took a long breath, exhaustion overcoming him. "I don't want to kill her, but I feel as if it is necessary."

Astoria's expression was a mix of pity and sorrow. "She has had and she will continue to have sufficient punishment."

What she meant by that, he didn't know, but he figured he could come back to it later. Fenris gestured to the home around them. "She doesn't live as if her actions have caught up with her."

"This house was bought with stolen money from Danarius."

The thought made him gag slightly, but he didn't know if he was glad that it was money that didn't belong to another magister or if he was disgusted that the money had come from one.

"I should have killed her when I had the chance."

Astoria pressed her lips together in a tight line and reached out to him, her fingertips gently grazing the exposed skin of his arm. "She was pregnant when you saw her. It's funny how things are like that."

"She was?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes. The baby is eight months old now."

He did the math in his head and gave a slight nod.

He surrendered, bowing his head and sighing. "Alright."

Astoria leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Fenris shut his eyes and dropped one of his hands into hers. He could hear Varania down the hallway, off in some room, singing her child to sleep. "Is she married?" He asked quietly.

"No."

"Who is the child's father?"

Astoria gave a slight shrug and Fenris did the math again in his head. At that time, Varania was working with Danarius.

A creeping suspicion invaded his thoughts and he could almost feel his blood run cold.

"I've thought of that too," Astoria said softly, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

Fenris' eyes went wide. "Do you think...?"

Astoria shrugged again. "I honestly don't know. The baby looks like Varania more than anything."

He nodded slowly. "I suppose it does not matter."

He was met with a small smile. "It is not the child's fault, and in this case... I don't think it is something Varania would have wanted."

"Hmm."

They were quiet for some time as Fenris finished what he could of his food, still holding Astoria's hand in one of his. The baby's crying ceased, and it was still some time before Varania came out to meet them. When she did, she hung by the entry to the hallway, quiet and meek as a mouse, wringing her hands.

Fenris ignored her presence, holding Astoria's hand on his lap and trying not to grip too tightly as his body tensed.

Varania looked sadly at the destroyed frame and mug on the ground, but did not make a move to clean up the mess just yet. Instead, she picked up what remained of the drawing and patted it dry against her dress.

"Leto," Varania said softly, her voice tight with fear, "I -"

"Do not call me that," he said icily.

"Yes." Varania hesitated, not looking directly at him as she continued. "Fenris... I feel terrible for everything I've done to you. Nothing will ever make that right. I am sorry, more than I can ever say."

Fenris frowned and held Astoria's gaze, looking deeply into her eyes as if looking for answers to questions he couldn't ask. He wanted support from her, and she was doing just fine. He squeezed her hand and shook his head, not looking at Varania. It wasn't a good enough answer for him. He couldn't push it under the rug, after letting it eat at him for so long.

"I would have given you everything," he said, and it was a struggle to keep his voice down.

Varania and Astoria shared a look and Astoria moved closer to Fenris. She planted a soft kiss on his bare shoulder, trying to support him and cheer him on subtlely.

"I thought..." Varania took a shaky breath before continuing, "I thought that you would be safe, if you came with me. Danarius said that you were a bodyguard, he said that you had privileges that slaves didn't have. He said that if I met you at The Hanged Man, he'd give us both nice living quarters, steady meals, money. He said he wouldn't hurt you."

Fenris' hands shook, so he tightened his grip on Astoria's hand and struggled to keep his breathing steady. Astoria ran light fingers up the length of his arm in the hopes of soothing him. If Fenris was terrible at anything, it was listening - not responding or reacting, just listening.

"I know it was a _terrible_ thing to do to you. I was deceived. You didn't deserve it."

Fenris snorted, bemused and looked at Astoria. He was exhausted, and not ready to reply just yet, knowing that he could probably never accept her apology. Astoria knew this, and with the quick look she shared with Varania, it was clear that his sister understood too. Wordlessly, Varania turned and left the room.

A door somewhere opened, in the opposite direction of where Varania had gone. Fenris jumped in his seat but Astoria squeezed his hand.

"It's only my brother."

He settled back into the seat as Hunter appeared, stepping over the broken glass on the floor. Upon noticing Fenris and Astoria, he paused and gave a slight wave.

"You're up. Good."

In the light, Hunter's resemblance to Astoria was more apparent than it had been before. They shared a similar shade of blue eyes, but Hunter was not blessed with such nice eyelashes. He was a bit older than them, Fenris thought, and built well. He was as sturdy as any Templar, and reminded Fenris of Donnic.

Hunter put the table between them and reached his hand out to shake Fenris'. "Nice to meet you, Fenris. I never got to say it before, but welcome to the family."

This was his brother-in-law, Fenris realized. He stood up and shook Hunter's hand, putting some strength into the shake. As they pulled away, Hunter shot a concerned look at Astoria.

"Thank you," Fenris said quietly.

"You look tired, sister."

"I haven't slept."

Fenris noticed a wedding band on Hunter's left hand. His brother-in-law was married, which meant he had a sister-in-law, and perhaps nieces and nephews. Varania, the last remaining member of that side of the family, had failed him. But that didn't mean he had to reject another side, did it?

"How long have I been under?" Fenris asked curiously, to Astoria.

"Two full days," Astoria answered.

Hunter quirked an eyebrow. "Astoria was telling me that it might have something to do with your lyrium?"

"I have no idea why it's been happening to me."

Hunter pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Have you ever taken lyrium?"

"Not that I can remember."

He nodded. "It's interesting. I've never heard of anything like that."

Fenris knew that Templars had to take lyrium on a daily basis. If anyone knew something about lyrium, it would be them. But Fenris could hardly think straight, his mind reeling with the events of the night. Any more information and he felt he'd explode.

Astoria looked sympathetically to Fenris. "Do you want to save it for tomorrow?"

He swallowed. "Yes. Tomorrow sounds good."

"Alright." Astoria stood slowly and let Fenris grab her shoulder to steady himself as he got to his feet. Hunter nodded and gave them both a small smile.

A few minutes later, Fenris and Astoria crawled into the small bed together. He curled an arm around her waist and burrowed his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of clean and fresh lavender.

"Are you glad that you've been reunited with your brother?"

He felt Astoria nod. "Yes. We have a lot to work through, like why I never bothered to get in touch. But he understands why I left in the first place, and I think we'll be able to work through it. Thank you for asking."

He knew he was selfish, that he concerned himself with mainly his survival and interests. But he was genuinely concerned for her. "And what will he do now?"

"He's going to go back to Kirkwall in a few days. If we find Lysander before then... he would like us to go with him."

"He can't bring my sister to the Circle?" Astoria chuckled and Fenris smiled in response, glad he could ease her pain just for a moment.

"He was willing to ignore her being a mage so that he could meet me. Besides, we're in Tevinter, not the Free Marches. He has little authority here."

Fenris nodded. Astoria spoke again. "Apparently my family's home in Highever is empty, and my brother owns it. He says he won't move back there because it reminds him too much of everything."

Fenris furrowed his brow, thinking that he understood where this was going. At the very least, he figured that she wanted to visit her old home. At the most, she wanted to live there.

"He offered it... for now, at least. He said I could live there as long as I take care of it. When the time comes... I'd love it if you'd like to join me."

Fenris took a long breath. Would he commit to her just yet? He couldn't verbalize it, not yet. He wanted to get the boy back, get the information that Valinius had on his markings. Then he would make a decision. "When the time comes, Astoria."

But when Fenris thought about it, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to pry himself from her side, even if things turned out horribly with Lysander. Duty to her and desire for her warred in his mind for control, and Fenris wasn't sure of anything much anymore.


	45. Learning To Live

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage and Fallon-Idalia for reviewing the last few chapters - you guys absolutely rock!**

**I'm so sorry it took so long to get this up - I'm struggling with the chapters I'm in now but I think I feel my writing wheels turning. Plus I've been busy at a new job and it's just been exhausting, but hang in there!**

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><p>Morning came too quickly. Fenris had some some unpleasant dreams, but it was nothing compared to the nightmares he had been consumed by for the past two days. As morning broke over Thedas, he dreamt of better things. He dreamt of Astoria sitting with him outside of Minrathous at the barn, he dreamt of them going to his mother's grave and leaving a bouquet of flowers.<p>

When he woke up, he could tell Astoria was still fast asleep. He felt like it was his fault that she had been so sleep-deprived. Having to take care of a feverish person surely was not easy.

He held her close against him, listening to her breathing, reveling in her scent and warmth and feel. He splayed his fingers over her stomach.

He tried to sort out his thoughts on the past several days. He knew several things. He knew that Astoria and Varania had not let him into a trap. He knew that his sudden illnesses were becoming more and more of a problem, and he was worried that they would happen and he wouldn't wake. He knew that Varania had a child, so he couldn't kill her. That relieved him in a way, knowing that he wasn't going to exact revenge on her anymore. That was out of his hands. There was no one left for him claim his revenge on.

Something was liberating about that.

He knew that if he chose to stay with Astoria at the conclusion of this all, that they had a place to live. That place was far from Tevinter and much more alluring than going back to his life in the City of Chains.

He knew that Lysander was with Valinius – the magister whose home they were going to raid anyway in search of Danarius' research.

This brought Fenris' mind to a dark place as he heard Varania's child babbling in the otherwise quiet home. He couldn't help but think that the child was Danarius' spawn – if Danarius had treated Varania like any other apprentice (who would usually do anything for his favor) or slave, then it was likely.

Had it been a trick of Danarius – another way to bait him? Fenris shuddered at the thought. Was there really a child that shared his blood with Danarius'?

An infantile scream pierced the quiet and Astoria awoke. She laid there still for a minute before Fenris splayed his fingers out on her stomach and made a small humming noise in his throat.

"Fenris?" Astoria's voice came out hoarse from the night of sleep.

"Hmm?"

"You – good morning."

He chuckled into her hair. "You good morning as well."

"I mean... you had a quiet night."

He knew what she meant. He had nightmares commonly – ill or not. He was used to them. They were usually the same – at least until he met Astoria. And then new nightmares mixed in with the ones he had before and they involved Astoria's untimely death or betrayal now coinciding with nightmares of Danarius, Hadriana, slavery, running and Varania.

Astoria was good at ignoring it. Other than the one time she woke him up by calling him "Leto," she didn't interfere. He liked it better that way. He didn't want to know every morning that she saw him in such a vulnerable state.

"Perhaps I did. But you were exhausted, I think."

"Hmm, yes," she breathed, "Knowing where Lysander is, you recovering, knowing that Varania was doing nothing to hurt us, that my brother doesn't hate me... is it wrong that I feel as if the worst is over?"

He tugged her against him. "I don't know what is right and wrong anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel relief... but... I still feel my hate. I still want revenge."

"On Varania?"

"Yes." He took a long breath. "But if I get my revenge... I won't feel better, will I? I didn't feel much better when I killed Hadriana."

"I'm sure you wouldn't feel better," she answered quietly. "Especially when you start to remember more."

"Just because I loved her then doesn't mean I love her now," he murmured. The way Astoria went still and rigid in his arms did not go unnoticed by him, and he realized what he had said.

"Right, I'm sorry."

He didn't know how to correct that. He hadn't meant to offend her, he should have known that she'd generalize it and assume he meant it with her as well. "Oh, Astoria, I -"

She sat up and began to stretch, sounding resigned. "No, I understand."

"No, you don't." He growled, suddenly frustrated. He tugged on her elbow. "_You_ didn't betray me, Astoria, you didn't _throw me away_ like she did, just to get ahead."

Astoria's shoulders sagged as she sat at the edge of the bed, apparently unconvinced.

"I don't see you the same as her."

Astoria turned and looked at him levelly, seriously. "Fenris... you don't have to appease me."

He nodded against the pillow, keeping a watchful eye on her. "I do... I... care for you."

A slow, sad and terribly weary smile graced her face, making the recent years of stress fall from her features. Astoria blinked back tears, though Fenris had no idea why she would cry, and she gave him a squeeze on his shoulder. "I care for you as well."

Fenris took the moment to look around the room. It was simple, modest and quaint. A handful of Varania's drawings hung from the wall in simple wooden frames. The drawings weren't portraits, like the one's Astoria had. They were more broad – meant to appeal towards a wider range of people instead of just Varania's immediate family. Still, Fenris could tell when some were done.

There was a drawing of an elven woman wandering through the streets of Minrathous, her face showing how confused and lost she was amongst a sea of passers-by and citizens, a slave auction happening in the background. Fenris knew it was Sharna, but her face was drawn differently and she looked like a ragged, mad woman.

He wondered if his mother had looked like that at the time.

The only furniture in the room was the small bed that he had shared with Astoria. A small rug laid out on the floor, worn but clean.

Fenris swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat beside Astoria. He let out a long sigh, not looking forward to the day ahead.

"Are you ready to meet your niece?" Astoria asked cautiously, her fingers curled around the side of the mattress. Fenris stared at her, mouth open in disbelief. The nightmare that he hadn't wanted to think about or face was imminent and on the horizon, and there was no more hiding from it.

"My... niece?"

Astoria nodded. "Her name is Solara."

Fenris knew what that name meant. It was an Arcanum name. He snorted. "'_Of the Sun_.'"

Astoria kept her eyes on his face, watching for any sign of discomfort. But Fenris remained expressionless, just watching the rug. He blinked when he heard hurried footsteps passing by the door, a baby's crying down the hall.

"I want to forget my hate."

A quiet moment passed before he lifted his gaze to hers, waiting anxiously to hearing her reply.

"You can, Fenris, it's possible. But it isn't easy."

He took her hand in his own and gave a nod.

They left the room and entered the hallway, lit only by candles. Varania's apartment had no windows except for one in the entryway – it was easier to protect against thieves that way though it usually left the apartments stifling and hot.

Astoria and Fenris went into the kitchen, where they began to prepare breakfast. He enjoyed standing beside her, helping, but tensed as soon as he heard and felt Varania's presence enter the room. He spun on his heel, feeling his heart rate skyrocket. Part of him wanted to grab onto Astoria, as if for balance or emotional support.

Varania stood there, somewhere caught between terrified and exhausted to the point of surrender, as she held a baby. Her eyes were on Fenris, and she looked as if she was about to turn and run away. A scared rabbit in the face of a wolf. Astoria quickly readied herself beside Fenris as if to keep him from doing anything drastic and violent.

But Fenris wasn't planning on it. He was watching the baby curiously, looking for any resemblance of Danarius.

But Solara didn't look like Danarius. She looked uncannily like her mother – though her straight hair was lighter and closer to yellow than Varania's crimson hair. Her eyes were hazel and big, her skin a light olive, like his own.

Fenris felt frozen in place. Time seemed suspended, a massive chasm of space and distance seemed to hang between Fenris and Varania. He was seeing another being that had his own blood running through its veins. He felt Astoria's fingers tangle themselves in his, reassuring him. For the moment, it bolstered him enough to take a breath

Varania balanced the baby on her hip. Solara seemed fascinated by the elven man in her kitchen. She didn't reach for him, but her hazel eyes went wide and she made a high-pitched shriek of excitement.

Fenris had forgotten to breathe, so when Varania put Solara on the floor, and the baby pulled herself into a crawl, he took a step back and gasped slightly. He tightened his grip on Astoria's hand and looked back at his sister.

Varania crossed her arms over her chest and swallowed hard when Solara began crawling towards Astoria and Fenris. It was obvious she was nervous about Solara being near him, but Fenris wasn't going to harm an infant and knew that he never would, even if it was Danarius' spawn. He was cruel, but he wasn't a monster – at least not all of the time.

Fenris didn't like murdering others. He had wanted to let Hadriana go and she had no redeeming qualities about her. He knew that if he had killed Varania, he'd find a way to live with himself but he'd never have felt good about it.

With his niece, who may or may not be fathered by the most horrid man on the planet, crawling towards him, he tugged on Astoria's hand and nudged her forward. She went in front of him and scooped up the baby in her arms.

"Fenris..." she said softly, holding the baby upright in front of her and turning to look at Fenris, "this is Solara. She is eight months old, she likes a little bit of wine before she sleeps, just like you." At that, Fenris snorted. "And she is very strong, like you. She could break your finger off."

Astoria smiled, but Fenris glanced from Solara to Varania. She was watching him with nothing but fear in her eyes. Her hands trembled at her sides. It was clear she thought he was going to harm Solara. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt her," he growled to Varania as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, fingers gripping its corner. Astoria smiled and Solara began babbling, holding a chubby arm out to Fenris. He didn't move, just shared a look with Astoria and she understood.

Astoria knew that he didn't want to go near the child for several reasons, and she didn't push him. She brought Solara to Varania, who seemed more than relieved to be with her in-tact child again. Astoria sighed and turned to Fenris.

"He's a better man than you give him credit for, Varania." Astoria said, her voice tight but stern, still holding Fenris' gaze.

Fenris nodded and turned his back on Varania, who stood awkwardly holding her child, who was beginning to make more babbling noises. He looked up at Astoria from under a snow white forelock and was greeted with a warm, impressed smile. He heard Varania's footsteps vanishing down the hall – possibly aggravated at the encounter.

"You did very well," Astoria whispered before pressing a light kiss to his shoulder.

Fenris shrugged, but his heart was hammering in his chest, those post-combat nerves racking him. His hands trembled so he put them down on his thighs and gave a long inhale and exhale.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said shakily. "I feel as if she's going to turn on us, every minute. As if slavers are going to crush the doors down and take us away."

Astoria nodded in understanding, but disagreed. "Her priorities have changed. She can survive on what she has, so all she's focused on is raising that girl."

Fenris waved at the home around him. "She'll tire of this. They always do. She'll want more and more – and then what?"

"Then we'll be far gone from here."


	46. There's Always Another Nightmare

**Thank you so much to Bear Mage and Fallon-Idalia for reviewing the last few chapters. You guys are so wonderful!**

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><p>Eshan and Hollan huddled over a desk like war generals preparing for battle, pointing at a detailed map of Tevinter and planning out routes of travel. Astoria and Fenris followed their line of thought, and anxiety welled up in them like a storm from the sea.<p>

"We have two weeks before the magisters converge together. Here, no less." Eshan's eyes flickered up to Hollan, who gave a nod of acknowledgement. These were the base facts that everyone knew.

A moment of silence passed in the stifling office of the tavern. Hollan cleared his throat and cast a grave frown on the map and all the pebbles used as markers littered across it, marking the magisters who were essentially in the line of fire. Hollan eyed the section of the map where Minrathous was drawn. "We're running out of time. We have to leave Minrathous before they're here."

"I think we've stayed too long as it is," Eshan muttered, one of his hands gripping his the leathered hilt of his sword. Eshan himself looked worn. Traveling from Tantervale and looking after so many other elves had been a struggle, and he had the deaths of several of them heavy on his mind. The Silent Plains had been cruel to Eshan, Garsen and their branch, but Fenris was glad again that he hadn't traveled with them. He knew he would have had to help bury the bodies.

Those that did survive were now hardened, tough and ready for war. Upon arriving at the tavern, Fenris couldn't help but notice the determined look in their eyes – the way they thirsted for the blood of Tevinter in precisely the way he had. They had lost their wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, daughters and sons to the wicked ways of the corrupt empire, and they were all out for their vengeance, one way or another. In a way, he was glad to be a part of it, but he expected nothing monumental to come of it. He half-expected that he'd be burying Astoria, or his child that he had never met, before it all was over.

Fenris shuddered at the thought, a shiver running down his curved spine, but no one paid it any mind.

"What is the size of our army?" Astoria asked. Fenris could tell she was nervous, but she hid it well. She chewed on her bottom lip just a bit longer than he would have thought, and she was wringing her hands the way Varania did.

Like a steel trap snapping its jaws shut, he killed the thought of his sister in his mind, moving on immediately as to not distract himself from the situation at hand. He didn't want to think of her, because if he did, he found his thoughts confused and twisting and overwhelming. He didn't want to forgive Varania, but he knew he'd have to find some middle ground that didn't involve murdering her. He wasn't going to do that, either.

Eshan and Hollan passed a look of almost dry amusement. Hollan scoffed and then looked between Fenris and Astoria. "We have less than two dozen in Minrathous as skilled- or nearly as skilled - as you both, and perhaps forty soldiers of lesser skill. Sixty, give or take."

Astoria furrowed her brow. This was not good news for several reasons, and as Fenris stood silently beside Astoria, he thought of the reasons they would fail. Firstly, their number was small – too small to burn Minrathous or cause any serious upheaval. Secondly, their number was large in the way that they'd have trouble leaving the city.

"But there are others," Eshan explained, "out of the city. The branches all over are rising with us."

Fenris frowned because it wasn't good enough.

"The others are failing us," Hollan growled, frowning terribly at the map. Eshan scratched his neck.

"What do you mean?"

Hollan shook his head and pointed to Vol Dorma. "There was an uprising there. I only got word of it several hours ago – the city officials here don't even know of it, as far as anyone can tell. However, I fear that they acted at the wrong time. They killed several guards and a magister's wife, and they have all been slaughtered."

"Do you think it will silence the others?" Astoria wondered, her voice dripping with sorrow, as if she knew who Hollan was talking about, as if she broke bread with them. All those innocent slaves now dead.

Fenris was bristling when Hollan nodded solemnly, before continuing just over a whisper. "We plan on picking off some of the magisters en route to Minrathous." He gestured vaguely to the map, across all the pebbles that marked locations all across the Empire. "Meanwhile, on the eve of the gathering, the other branches will rise up. It will be a week before some of the magisters even hear of the destruction of their estates and work, of the freeing of their slaves. A matter of days for most – and in that frame of time, we can cripple them."

Eshan stared meditatively at the map. The plan was riddled with holes, but Fenris wondered if a more coherent plan was even possible – especially when planned between so many people over such a large area.

"Do we have any mages on our side?"

Eshan looked at Astoria, contemplating the question for a brief moment. "Yes, and I can count them on one hand."

"Will we be attacking the Capitol Palace?"

Hollan gave a small nod. "Yes. We have a small number of martyrs, if you will."

Fenris tensed and watched Astoria do the same. "How will they?" Her voice came out tight, stretched and fearful.

"Skin-dissolving gases and explosives," Hollan answered, his voice seeming to become more and more determined. "But we are at a great disadvantage to harm the Senate by any other means – magic can span a great distance, and the only thing we have that can are arrows, and the damage ratio is not in our favor. By the time we could take down a magister with arrows, he would have healed, or someone would have healed him. Unless we have great shots, and ex-slaves are not the best archers I've seen."

"It needs to be quick and unexpected." Astoria reflected, tapping her fingers to her lips in thought. "And all of the magisters will be there?"

"Most – again, some we would like to catch in transit."

"How about Valinius?" Astoria pointed to Asariel on the map. "How are we taking him down? In transit or at his estate, can we get there before he leaves?"

Hollan narrowed his eyes in thought, but Eshan crossed his arms and cleared his throat to answer. "If we see him on the road, then that's where we'll attack. But the fact is, our only hope at finding magisters in transit is on the road, and the road is dangerous for us. We will have a scout who will notify us whenever a magister is spotted. As for Valinius – I do not know where we'll see him, if we do."

Hollan sighed and asked, "Is Valinius your former master, then?"

"No," Astoria frowned, "he has my – our – son." She looked over her shoulder at Fenris, eyes swirling in sorrow.

There were those times where they would meet each other's gaze, and it was like his heart slammed into his ribcage and his breath came in short, his loins burning with desire for her that he tried to conceal and keep suppressed somewhere inside him where he didn't dare to venture. When her sea-blue eyes met his, her lips slightly parted as if in worry, he knew that this was one of those moments.

But there was something else there, underneath the lust and desire he felt. A sense that they were in this together, a bond that couldn't be broken, resided there, and he loved the feeling.

"Ah, I see," Hollan replied. "Then we'll kill the bastard."

"Yes, we will," agreed Eshan as he braced himself against the table, "I'd like us all to leave the day after tomorrow at dawn – if the city doesn't burn by then. Meet us outside of the city or meet here and come with us. I think we may have to leave Minrathous the way we left Tantervale – in groups of two. I'll be sending out the lesser-skilled today."

Fenris snorted at the memory and he felt that it wouldn't work. Minrathous wasn't anything like Tantervale.

"We're hiding." Astoria muttered so softly that for a moment no one else was sure she had spoken. They stared at her, and under their curious gaze she felt compelled to elaborate. "As if we're doing something _wrong_. Thieves in the night." She scoffed and raised her palms in exasperation, frustrated and weary. "I understand why – but... they took my son in broad daylight." She turned and gave Fenris a look filled with pity and then anger. "They threw Fenris in an arena with men twice his size and made them _fight like dogs,_ to the death, and they flaunted it in our faces! All to prove that they could, that they could dominate us! They suppress sedition by bragging about it, humiliating us!"

Fenris cocked an eyebrow, wondering if he would have to pull her away to keep her voice from getting too loud. But a glance at Hollan and Eshan and he decided that all was fine. They didn't seem bothered at all. In fact, their faces were unmarred by any shock, any disapproval. He put a palm on the small of her back and she met his eyes again, her own welling with unshed tears, and it seemed to calm her.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice with a hint of surrender, "but it just feels... so unsatisfying."

Eshan chuckled, actually chuckled. "Hold onto that anger, my dear."

Fenris frowned, splaying his fingers out across the back of her tunic. If she was on his side, he'd be on hers.

"We'll need that," Hollan agreed with a nod. A fleeting moment passed in the cramped room before Eshan nodded to Fenris. "By the way, Fenris, it's good to see you've stuck around. We could use your skill, as long as you'll lend it."

He nodded in turn and they said good-bye to Hollan and Eshan a few moments later. They would meet them outside of the city the morning after the next. Fenris tried hard not to think about it and about all the ways their plan would blow up in their faces. For the first time, he wished he had his companions from Kirkwall by his side for the extra support, but he knew he'd be fine without them.

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><p><em> "What's going on?" Leto asked, his eyebrow cocked with curiosity as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his muscles, cramped from having such a slow day with only the lightest of training. It was the day before the competition, and the magister had made it so that he had a light day and wasn't allowed to do any work. Astoria and Sharna were sitting, leaning against the side of their hovel, watching the sun set over the magister's estate.<em>

_ Varania was drawing, like usual, her brow knitted in focus as she found that quiet place inside her that allowed art to pour from her fingertips. Leto smiled at her, but she paid no mind, glancing up at his mother and wife before turning back to the vellum in her hands._

_ "Nothing, dear, we were just waiting for you," Sharna answered with a forced smile. Leto knew how torn up she felt, how helpless she felt to be unable to intervene in what was to come. This was the last time the sun would set for Leto's freedom – a thought that made him sick to his stomach. Not that he was ever free, per say, but he knew that he was happier than he could ever remember being. Sometimes that was close enough._

_ Leto slid down to sit between Astoria and Sharna. He planted a kiss on both of their cheeks before hearing a sigh from Varania._

_ "You had to sit between them, Leto?" Varania teased, "Now I have to start a new drawing."_

_ Leto chuckled at his little sister. "I live to plague your life with small inconveniences, sister."_

_ Varania scrunched her nose, but whatever argument they would have had on any other day fell away miserably. She would miss him dearly, Leto knew that, whether he survived the next day or not._

_ "Leto," Sharna said softly, offering him a mug, "The Apothecary brought this to us. She said that Mavion is ordering you to drink it – it'll put you to sleep within about ten minutes, so you'll be well-rested tomorrow. But you have to drink it before it gets too dark or you won't be able to wake in time."_

_ Leto frowned at the mug and took it, sniffing it. "You think I should?"_

_ "Yes," Sharna said, her voice cracking in an effort to hold herself together. He had seen her fall apart too much recently. "You need your sleep, more tonight than ever."_

_ He felt Astoria brush her fingertips along his thigh as she handed him a plate of food and the three of them ate in some long, solemn sadness as the sun fell into the horizon. Afterwards, they went inside and Leto sat on his cot with Astoria balled up in his arms._

_ Sharna and Varania washed the plates and he spoke low enough for them not to hear. "If I survive tomorrow, please care for them." He whispered into her ear. "Get them out of Tevinter, if you can, please."_

_ "No," Astoria said, her blue eyes brimming with tears."We're staying here – we've already talked about it. We're going to stay as close to Danarius' mansion as we can."_

_ Leto sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Please, mellita, don't – I'll never sleep knowing you three are in danger of being caught again and sold back into slavery."_

_ "We won't, Leto, you've taught me how to fight, I'll defend us."_

_ Leto kissed the hollow of her neck and sighed. "I have not trained you as well as I should have, love."_

_ "Stop it – everything is going to be fine."_

_ Leto pulled away from the crook of her neck. "If I die, even if I don't, please, move on – go and be happy, mellita."_

_ Astoria rolled her eyes and choked a sob, trying to remain strong but failing terribly. "I don't want you to leave, Leto. Please, let me come with you."_

_ Leto sucked in a breath, irritated that he was having this conversation again. "As much as I'd love to have you with me every morning, every night for the rest of our lives... this may be the only chance at freedom that you'll ever have. That's the condition. I do this, you go."_

_ Tears spilled over Astoria's cheeks but Leto tried to wipe them away. He noticed Sharna glance at them, but said nothing. His poor mother, he thought. He knew that leaving her would ruin her, leave a mess for Astoria and Varania to clean up._

_ "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier."_

_ Leto and Astoria touched their foreheads together and shut their eyes. "It isn't easy, but I'm glad to do it. For you. I don't want tomorrow to come, not with tonight being my last night with you, with them. No matter how tomorrow turns out."_

_ "Don't say that, Leto – you'll dominate tomorrow, I know it."_

_ He gave her a lazy smirk and kissed her, long and deep and powerful. He cradled her against him even after, even when he heard Varania's voice._

_ "Leto, you have to drink this."_

_ He opened his eyes and sighed, eyes tearing up. Was this it? His last few moments with his family before tomorrow?_

_ "I don't want to take it," he groaned, eyeing the mug suspiciously._

_ Varania's green eyes widened in understanding. "I'm sorry, Leto, but you have to. I saw the apothecary make it – she did it correctly, you'll wake up tomorrow feeling refreshed."_

_ "I don't want it." Leto frowned, feeling his conviction shake as his mother turned to watch him. "I want to stay up with you three. I'll sleep fine."_

_ "No, you won't. Besides, the guards are going to come check on you, they want you to be asleep by the time they're here."_

_ Leto was up in an instant. "They're coming here?"_

_ "Yes, by the time the stars are out, so take it." Varania held the drink out to him. "Don't worry, we'll have time in the morning to talk."_

_ Leto sighed and took the mug into his hands. Sharna smiled at him but he knew that she felt terrible inside._

_ "You have a better chance at winning tomorrow if you sleep well, little moon." Sharna went to him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He smiled and kissed his mother back on her own forehead._

_ "Fine, I'll drink it."_

_ Without a word, he chugged the contents of the mug – a sweet smelling tea that almost immediately made him feel fuzzy and warm inside._

_ And then, as if on cue, there was a knocking at the door._

_ Leto went to the door immediately, putting on a stern face. He was the protector of their home. He'd show them the empty mug, if they needed to wait around to watch him fall asleep, he could fake it._

_ He opened the door and saw three guards standing there, their faces grim and serious. Leto stood in the doorway and felt his stomach plummet._

_ The guards had authority over him, he knew that. But even in his drowsy and cloudy head, he knew that something was wrong and he was prepared to fight them. He had killed one before – and the way the guards now stood, eyeing him anxiously, told him that they knew this also._

_ "I drank it, if that's what you're here for," he said coldly._

_ The guards glanced at each other, as if nervous, and then one of them cleared his throat. "Er, actually, the magister sent us here to retrieve her." He nodded beyond Leto, who felt himself bristling immediately._

_ Leto turned and saw that the guard had meant Astoria. "What?" He demanded, angling his body in the doorway as if to stop them from going into the home._

_ "The magister has plans for her, for tonight," sneered the guard in the middle lecherously. Leto felt himself draw in a breath, and behind him a gasp and hushed reassurances. The other two guards, better men than the middle, rolled their eyes._

_ Leto turned and looked over his shoulder. Astoria was still as stone, horrified. On either side of her, Sharna and Varania exchanged worried glances between them before turning their gaze to Leto as if he were a volatile thing._

_ "No," Leto said hoarsely. His throat had tightened up, he felt his hands and knees trembling. "She's my wife," he said, though he knew that the magister knew that._

_ "We know," said one of the guards on the end. "We have to take her. You know how it is."_

_ Leto tried desperately to fight the tea he had drank. It was making him drowsy and weak, even though he struggled to stay above its influence. He hated how he was doing this – and in a couple minutes he'd be useless to defend her._

_ He felt the drug pulling him into the ocean of dreams. Only three weeks prior, he had been forced to whip her for a crime he committed – and it had not been enough for the magister. Leto contemplated making himself vomit so he could protect her. He wondered if he'd have time, or if the drug had done its damage – he didn't know anything about it._

_ "Leto?" The whisper that came from behind him, between Varania and Sharna, stung like salt in an open wound. Leto's face contorted in anguish at the sound of the plea. He knew he had to defend her, even though he knew that he couldn't stop three men._

_ "No," he growled at the guards, "you cannot."_

_ The guards shared a look, as if communicating to each other that they were going to do something. Leto tensed and threw a hand out to Astoria, signaling to her to not move._

_ "Leto," said the guard to the left, "we have to take her. It's his orders."_

_ Leto stepped forward and shut the door behind him, putting another barrier between his family, the woman he loved and those that wanted to take her from him – on potentially his last night alive, no less._

_ "Is your mind where it should be?" Asked the guard to the left, "I hear that if you win tomorrow you set them free. Let us take her peacefully, just for tonight, and you can still have a chance at her freedom. Is it worth it?"_

_ Leto began to tremble. "Would you let another man take your wife?" The words felt bitter in his mouth._

_ The guards looked at him somberly. The lecherous one in the middle seemed to enjoy the show of Leto's rebellious attitude and his uncompromising stance._

_ "We're taking Astoria for tonight – not for us, specifically – but you have to decide how you're going to let us take her."_

_ Leto sprung forward and threw his fist into the middle one. What happened next was a blur for him. He found himself in a fight where no one hit him, no one harmed him. He even heard them shouting to each other not to injure him. But even still, three of them overpowered him and pinned him to the ground – two of them holding him down while the third swung open the door and shouted at Astoria to get outside._

_ Leto could hear, but couldn't see, his family arguing with the guard. Varania's frightened shouting, Sharna's sobbing, probably at the sight of him struggling underneath two steel-plate covered bodies - it all rang in his ears. Leto went limp when he heard heavy footsteps walking away from his home. He strained to see the guard leading Astoria away by the arm, and he let out an anguished scream._

_ Astoria looked over her shoulder and met his gaze, tears in her eyes. But Astoria was a strong girl, and her tears did not fall._

_ Leto watched her as the guard dragged her off, trying to ignore the crying he heard from his mother and sister. The drug gripped him, its tendrils pulling him closer towards unconsciousness seductively. Leto wanted to stay awake more than anything, but physically he couldn't even find the strength to struggle anymore underneath the hands of the guards._

_ When the guards got off of him, Sharna and Varania went to him and worked hard to get him on his feet. Through slurred words, his sister and mother both hooked one of his arms over their shoulders and guided him back into the home._

_ Leto wanted to scream, to run and save her, but he couldn't find any energy within himself, not even to pick his head up. It shamed and angered him deeply. Varania and Sharna laid him down in his and Astoria's cot, and pulled a blanket over him. He called out her name, but he was asleep before he knew it._

_ When morning slanted in through the blinds, Leto's heart sank as he realized Astoria was not in his bed, and he wouldn't see her again if he died in the arena. Leto knew immediately that he'd win for her, so that she'd never be hurt again by the likes of a man like the magister._

* * *

><p>Waking had never been so unpleasant. Reality hit him like a brutal wave slamming into the shore. Fenris gasped into brown, flowing curls, his fingers digging into fabric and also into her soft skin, his nails embedding themselves in her. He trembled with his jaw clenched tight, realizing that he was in a bed, next to Astoria – and all was indeed fine in that moment. It was difficult to settle when he had the nightmare of her being taken from him. He had saved his own dreadful sister from rape, but now his own wife.<p>

His new memory seared through him – painful and terrible. It made him feel sick inside, not only physically ill but a horrible guilt churned in the depths of his being. He had failed so awfully and completely – his final night with her and his family he had been unconscious while other men forced themselves on Astoria. Had she called out for his help? Had she been in pain? Had she cried? Had she hated him in those moments for losing himself and being incapacitated?

The guilt was like a thing living, worming inside him stronger than any time he could remember. Fenris couldn't let her sleep any longer, not with this weighing on him.

"Astoria," he said into her hair, his voice hoarse and panicked.

She shifted on the bed beside him before turning over in his arms. Her blue eyes searched his face silently. She had her arms pulled in towards her chest – always willing to give him the space he needed.

He didn't want space from her anymore. She had gone through that pain because of him – though he never would have wanted her to.

Fenris felt his words falling into oblivion before he could speak them. "Uh..."

Astoria smirked. "You've been thrashing. Bad dream?"

Fenris made a strangled noise in his throat. "I only wish it were a dream"

Her smirk fell from her fast and her blue eyes narrowed. "What was it?"

Fenris splayed his fingers out across her back and swallowed, struggling to find the words. If only he could describe to her the panic and terror he had felt in the dream, tell her he was eternally sorry because if she had never gotten involved with him, that never would have happened to her. She also wouldn't be free, but at the moment that point seemed moot.

"The..." Fenris shifted his gaze to her neck as to not maintain eye contact because the subject was too intimate, "night before the... competition."

Her breath audibly hitching caught his attention, rapt and focused and hard. He appeared furious, but he wasn't angry with her by any means.

"Oh..." she whispered quietly. "And?"

He clenched his jaw tight. "They took you away and I woke up and you weren't there."

To his complete and utter horror, Astoria chuckled softly. "Oh, Fenris."

"This is amusing to you?" He accused, his voice rising, tone icy.

Astoria shook her head and tentatively pushed his snowy forelock out of his face. "It isn't funny... I just... you can't remember the best part."

Fenris climbed out of the bed before she could continue, irritated that she would brush off or jest about such a thing. It had been horrible – that sinking, destroyed feeling in his gut in the memory – and she was on the verge of laughing about it. He started putting on his armor hastily, not looking at her. Part of him wanted to run outside and scream, and a larger part of him wanted to murder those guards.

"Fenris – they didn't hurt me, nothing- " she said, slipping out from under the blanket they had shared.

He froze and glared at her, and now he was furious with her. "That's disgusting – I don't want to hear about it," he spat, feeling his ears burning with anger. How dare she go into detail about that – something he would have wished he knew nothing of.

Astoria looked frightened, shock contorting her features. "What? No!" She slapped a palm to her forehead and went to him, stopping only inches away. He trembled in all his fury, his breath ragged and quick. Just as he was about to warn her to get away, she spoke again. "They didn't do anything to me – no one touched me."

Fenris narrowed his eyes suspiciously, unconvinced. "I saw them drag you off!"

Astoria shook her head. "It was another trick, just another trick. They brought me into the mansion, I talked with the magister, and they made me sleep in the bodyslave's quarters. Mavion wanted you to think the worst, to get you to fight harder in the competition. He wanted you to win. Remember?"

Fenris felt his anger dripping away in sheets. He shut his eyes and slowly finished putting on his belt, a bit more forcefully than he needed to. Astoria pressed her soft palm to his cheek, her fingers stretching out over his skin, towards his ear and hair. "Fenris... when you got back from the competition, I told you everything. They didn't let me see you before you went away to fight, but after you had won, I told you that they hadn't done anything to me. You were lied to only until you won the competition."

Fenris took a long breath, forcing himself to steady, for his heart rate to slow. Embarrassment bloomed from the back of his mind. He had shown too much of himself just now – his desire for her, his reaction at the thought of her being violated... he hadn't meant for her to see that. He didn't want her to see that the thought of a man taking her was too much for him to handle, even though it was something he hadn't tried.

"Venhedis," he growled, low and quiet and lacking any fury he had held moments ago. He opened his eyes and sighed. "I was ready to kill them, to find them- "

Astoria chuckled. "You almost did when you got back to the estate, but I got to you first."

"No one touched you that night?" He asked quietly, feeling intrusive.

"No one."

He nodded and touched his forehead to hers, his fingers snaking so that each of his palms cupped one side of her neck. Her hands came up to curl around his wrists, and he saw she was smiling, eyes shut but with tears forming at the corners of them.

"You were close to not making it out of that competition, Fenris. I think you had been in six fights before you won it. When we saw you again you could hardly walk."

He frowned, trying not to think of the live's of the six people he had to murder to free three others. He knew they may have been offered similar boons, that they were likely all fighting for their wives, mothers and daughters. But he was the one who won, who killed the others.

"I'm glad that the magister did everything he did. We're both alive. It was torture when we went through it, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Fenris narrowed his jade eyes, trying to understand the woman that travelled across much of the continent to find him, trying to understand why, even though he wasn't the man she remembered, she would go through so much for him. He tried to understand why he would ever deserve someone like her and the attention and love she had for him.

"Did you know what was going to happen that night?" Fenris asked, searching her expression as it held steady.

"No, I had no idea," Astoria explained, "I thought the worst, just as you had. Once the magister told me what he was doing, I was so angry. I worried that if you died in the competition, I'd never have had the chance to say good-bye to you because they kept me from seeing you the next morning also, to make you think the worst."

Fenris sighed and gathered himself. "I'm not relieved that yet another magister played tricks on me, but... I suppose I am thankful. I'd not have my life."

Astoria smiled and rocked up onto her toes to give him a soft and brief kiss. But Fenris held her face there, cradling her jaw and exploring her lips and the cavern of her mouth with his own tongue. Astoria lost her balance on her toes and fell into his chest.

The sudden closeness seemed to jerk him back into reality. Fenris steadied her on her feet and they left the room together, going out into the kitchen.

Stepping into the room, Fenris paused when he saw Varania breaking eggs into a clay bowl. She looked over her shoulder – not at him, but at Astoria, and with a smile, said something that Fenris wasn't expecting.

"Happy birthday, Astoria."

* * *

><p><strong>I know these memories are just so brutal and sad, but I assume that is the life of a slave. Bah. Please let me know what you think!<strong>


	47. Calm Before The Storm

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia, WinterBear, Wicked Lullaby and Angels Poison for the reviews - I'm so excited to read them every time!**

**I'm so so so sorry this took so long to get up, I kept adjusting tons of things because I never liked how it was turning out. Bah. At least it's long-ish.**

* * *

><p><em>Of course<em> it was her birthday. Fenris had never asked when it was, and he knew Astoria wasn't the type who would come out and say it just to say it, she wouldn't root out any unnecessary attention from him. He would have missed it completely if Varania had said nothing, if the day had fallen on another, perhaps when they were on the road.

Fenris tried suppressing the shame he felt, but he knew that Astoria picked up on his embarrassed and guilty expression. "Oh, Fenris," she whispered to him softly, "it's fine."

It wasn't fine to him. She had done so much for his own birthday, had made the day truly special, and he had yet to repay her. Fenris immediately fumbled around with some excuse that he'd be back, and that he didn't need Astoria to follow him around the city, before he left the home. So he went out into the unquenchable and unbearable summer heat of Minrathous, keeping his stifling black hood over his face and covering his markings.

Fenris went to the same bazaar where he and Astoria had waited for Varania. The searing sun beat down oppressively into the square. Dehydrated slaves followed their masters, next to naked with their dusty skin exposed and burned, their lips chapped and dry, hair sometimes matted. Fenris, despite the heat, shivered upon seeing them with their heavy collars that signified their position in society.

Fenris went to the courier that had delivered the letters between Astoria and Varania, the man who was blind in his left eye and bald, selling clothing under the shade of a vendor booth. The man gazed at Fenris warily as he approached.

Fenris halted in front of the booth and ran gauntleted fingers over a soft cloth, a blue sari the color of Astoria's eyes with silver embroidery. It was smaller than a full sari, but large for a scarf, and could protect a woman from the harsh heat, wind and dust storms that they would encounter on their way back to Kirkwall or Ferelden, or wherever.

"Something I can help you with, ser?" The man asked, narrowing his one good eye.

"It's my wife's birthday," Fenris muttered, his voice low.

The suspicion in the courier's eyes was clear, but he said nothing of it. "A simple sari cannot steer you wrongly, although it is not the most fashionable right now."

"Where could I find her a good bottle of wine, or where could I take her without... worry."

Understanding lit up the man's features, and he gave a nod. Now the man knew who he was helping – someone in the rebellion. Why else would someone seek his advice?

"There is only one tavern I could recommend you to, although if you know enough to seek me, then you know enough of that place." The man's good eye swept the bright square. "If you wish to give your wife a gift, get her out of Minrathous. Today."

Fenris frowned hard, his full lips formed into a tight line. "We are leaving tomorrow. Will you answer my question or not?"

"Very well." The man nodded and scratched his chin. "There is a warehouse by the docks. Anything you could hope to purchase, I'm sure they would carry. You are looking for a warehouse with a square and three horizontal lines etched into the doorframe. Knock twice and say that I sent you. My name is Yorah."

Fenris was uneasy, but he left the square after buying the blue sari and went to the docks, his fingers on the throwing knives that hung on the side of his belt. He knocked on the door twice, spoke with a large grumbling man, said that he was sent by Yorah and that he was looking for a couple bottles of Aggregio. He handed the man some sovereigns, not enough to cover the cost of the wine if bought legally, but more than enough for the black market.

Fenris wrapped the bottles in the blue sari and went back towards Varania's, now early into the afternoon. He kept his eyes low, but couldn't help looking at the gallows as he passed them. There was a commotion on the stage – slaves lined up, but not to be sold.

Fenris shuddered when he noticed one slave, a man, forced to his knees and bent over a block of wood. An executioner raised his axe, a magister looked on with grim amusement from the stage, the man's cool eyes scanning the crowd that had gathered to watch the slaughter.

Suddenly Minrathous felt ever more dangerous, and Fenris slipped into the nearest alleyway he could find, flinching at the gasping of the crowd, at the sound of a neck breaking, a heavy axe crushing through it. His feet pushed him onwards towards Varania's home, a panic breaking through him like a raging fever.

He found Astoria in the modest courtyard behind Varania's home, a patch of garden shared by three other homes, playing with his niece. Fenris uncovered the bottles of wine and threw his head back, shutting his eyes, letting the hot sun wash across his face.

He took a breath and tried to steel himself and prepare for the night ahead.

* * *

><p>"By the Maker, where did you learn to bluff like that?" Hunter asked, frowning at the cards on display on the table. He scoffed and shook his head at a smirking Fenris across the wooden tabletop. "I don't think you have a tell. Is it because you're an elf? I know elves are impossible bluffers."<p>

Fenris snorted in laughter, but it was dry and bitter humor that came out of his mouth. "I have been tortured and forced to keep a straight face simultaneously. Playing diamondback is... simple in comparison."

Fenris almost regretted what he said, but he had indulged in wine and he let out a chuckle in a late effort to ease his brother-in-law. But Hunter was a decent man, he seemed, and nodded appreciatively. "I would imagine that would do it. Another round?"

"Of course." Fenris smirked and decided he liked Hunter – he reminded him a lot of Donnic. They had been playing diamondback for an hour or so. Astoria and Varania were in the other room, playing with Solara, and Fenris found himself often trying to listen to what they were saying.

"Alright, just give me a moment. Nature is calling."

Hunter rose from his chair and Fenris collected his winnings from the last round. So far, Astoria's birthday had been pleasant. They had made a large meal, finished by Fenris' favorite apple pie and coupled with flowing glasses of wine and ale. Varania had prepared for this day, it seemed, and a small part of Fenris was grateful for it.

The mood of the household was lighter than it had been since Fenris had woken up. Varania was getting along well with Astoria and Hunter, and for his wife's sake, Fenris avoided any confrontation with his sister. Solara was a delight, though seeing her twisted his stomach. Astoria's eyes had lit up when he gave her the wine gifts, but he had waited to give her the sash. For some reason, he was embarrassed to give it to her – it'd be a step beyond what she did for him, although she had also cooked a meal and worn a dress.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw figures appear from the other room. In the entryway stood Varania, wringing her hands, beside Astoria who was bouncing Solara on her hip. Fenris immediately met Astoria's gaze, intensely curious as to what was happening.

Varania opened her mouth to say something and Fenris felt himself growing anxious. He shifted his gaze back to Astoria because she gave him a small and reassuring smile. Solara babbled from on her hip, playing with Astoria's hair.

"Um, Fenris... can we... talk?" Varania asked, her voice barely audible. Fenris clenched his jaw and gathered the cards into a pile, ignoring her for the meantime. He glanced up at Astoria and saw her watching him, almost solemnly. He knew that this was something she wanted him to do. A moment passed and he sighed, aware of how Varania wrung her hands in her anxiety, and how her bottom lip was quivering and she looked as if she'd pass out any second.

Fenris waved vaguely at the room around them. "Speak if you must, this is your house, is it not? Bought with the blood money you stole from a dead magister?"

Varania glanced at Astoria, as if for support, but instead she was watching him.

"I'd prefer to go outside, if... if you don't..." Varania said softly, pausing when Fenris looked at her with a darkened expression, "...mind."

Fenris stood reluctantly, flattening his palms against his hips. He shot a look at Astoria, partly angry that she didn't step in and keep him from this torture, but also aware that whatever she was doing, it was probably the right thing to do. She wouldn't put him through this if she didn't think he was ready for it, or if she didn't think anything good would come of it.

Fenris followed Varania down the hallway and out the back door into the small courtyard that was shared by other apartments. The courtyard had low walls surrounding gardens that housed tropical plants and cactuses. In the sweltering early afternoon sun, Fenris followed his sister to where she sat down on one of the walls. He stood several paces away and crossed his arms.

Varania looked as if she was going to be sick. She rocked back and forth slightly, her knuckles bone-white as she gripped the edge of the wall. Her green eyes were wide and filled with fear. That's how she had looked when Fenris had advanced on her a year prior, about to kill her.

"If you have anything of meaning to say, speak," Fenris growled after a minute of silence.

Varania's hands were shaking. "Fenris... I... don't believe there is anything I can say to describe to you just how sorry I am for what I've done."

Fenris felt like he was being punched in the gut repeatedly, but he managed to stand steady and scowl at her.

"Perhaps you care to explain _why_ you sold out your own brother?" He threw up his arms in frustration. "Why would you do that after I risked my life to set you free? I murdered innocent people to free you!"

Varania shook her head, as if she didn't know herself. "I was always so jealous of you. Mother favored you, because you look like our father and you were the first born. You had Astoria, and you were happy back then. Maker, when we found out that I had magic, it was like a slap in the face. It was another way where I would be lesser than you. I never had what you had, and then you set us free, such a selfless act. And mother would disappear and we'd find her in some alleyway. We struggled, and then eventually we found out that you were free yourself. And then they came and took Lysander away and at the time all I could think was – what right did you have gallivanting around Thedas while they ripped your wife's son from her arms?"

Fenris stood still, statue-like, as he racked his brain to understand. Varania continued, her voice growing steadier.

"I had this master plan, that you'd come with us and perhaps you'd send money to Astoria or talk Danarius into getting your son back. Part of me didn't believe you when you said that you had lost your memory in those letters. Until I saw you."

"I wasn't gallivanting around Thedas," he growled, his heart hammering in his chest. For a moment he wondered if he would pass out. But no, he was too nervous to do so. "I was running away from the very man you tricked me into seeing."

Varania nodded. "I know. I saw you and... oh, Maker, I've never... I never had any idea that you were put through so much. All I had known was that you were a lyrium warrior – and that really meant nothing to me, I didn't know what that was. When I saw you with those markings, Leto, I've never felt so guilty in my life."

"You should feel guilty," Fenris snarled, "and don't call me that!"

Varania reminded him of a frightened hare before a wolf, cornered and injured. "I'm sorry," she said, half-whimpering. "Fenris, I didn't know you were treated so horribly. The way Danarius spoke of you... it sounded like you enjoyed-"

"I enjoyed nothing," he growled, fearing his patience was at its end, that he wouldn't be able to hold himself together any longer, "he was a cruel man and he enjoyed causing me pain!"

Varania buried her face in her trembling hands. "Fenris... there is nothing I wouldn't do."

"Everything I've done for you – you threw it back in my face! People like you are the reason I am the way that I am – the reason I'm alone in this world."

Varania narrowed her eyes at him, looking argumentative. "Don't preach to me that you are alone, Fenris. Your perfect wife loves you dearly and you've done nothing for her except condemn her to motherhood with no help or protection. You are not alone, Fenris, and you've _never _been alone."

Fenris' temper flared and he balled his fists. "Don't bring her into this, witch, you owe her just as much as you owe me!"

Varania dropped her gaze, intimidated by him. "I... I try to see it. Astoria says that you're still Leto underneath it all, but I can't see it. Leto was a delight, he was full of joy and life and pride. But you are something else entirely. I feel so badly that you have been through everything you've been through, I feel terribly that it has made you a different person."

Fenris scowled and felt himself shaking, trembling in his rage. "It isn't fair that you're comparing me. I don't remember what I used to be."

Varania nodded, as if realizing this also. "I know, I'm sorry. I digressed. I brought you out here to apologize, and there I go, ruining what fragile relationship we do have."

"We have nothing," he pointed out, his voice low and hopeless sounding.

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I would not have it so, if I could. I'd change it all if I could go back two years ago."

Fenris felt the fight leaving him. He sat down on the wall, a few feet from Varania, and braced himself against his knees. "This cannot be repaired. Even if you really thought you weren't in the wrong when you led me into that trap. I don't want to hate you, but... I could never trust you."

"I accept and deserve that, Fenris."

Silence managed in the uncomfortable timespan of the afternoon as Fenris and Varania looked out at the garden, both wanting nothing more than to run away from each other. Fenris cleared his throat. "Do you think Lysander is still alive?"

Varania looked up at him solemnly, swallowing hard as if afraid to admit some terrible truth. "I don't know, Fenris. I can... tell you some things, but you need to know there's a reason I haven't told Astoria."

Fenris' hand shot out and his fingers closed around her arm. "What?" he growled, brow furrowed in something akin to fury, "What have you been hiding?"

She squealed, like an animal frightened, but didn't try pulling away. When she didn't answer immediately, Fenris shook her arm.

"What is it?"

"They wanted to make him like you!" She sobbed, tears sprouting from the corners of her familiar mossy eyes. "They wanted to turn him into a lyrium warrior."

Fenris let go of her arm like it burned him as the realization made him nauseous. He couldn't manage a word as he braced himself against his knees and bowed forward.

"There's something genetic," Varania was saying, springing up to her feet and taking a few steps away from him, "about your... ability. That's why so many die when they try to give them the brands. Danarius did them to you, and you survived. Not only that but you could attune them, use them. Valinius is the first magister to discover this genetic... trait. He took Lysander to see if he could be just like you – and if so, then Astoria could be one also, and all your children. There would be a small army of people like you."

His head swam, mind racing with unpleasant thoughts. To Fenris, the entire world had just opened up and released its wrath upon him. The Maker, if there was such a thing, was mocking him. This was a cruel joke beyond any that he had ever experienced.

Lysander was taken from Astoria because of him. It was his fault. Lysander had likely been put through the same pain, the same memory loss, the same burning and tearing of the flesh that took weeks to heal, the same cruel curse that Fenris had, if he survived. If Lysander hadn't survived, then that may even be worse.

Fenris retched onto the dry dirt, the guilt too much to bear. Astoria, if she knew this, would be heartbroken, probably even hate him forever.

A thought occurred to him even amidst the nightmare he was experiencing. "Why are _you_ not branded?" He asked, raising his head from between his knees and swaying to his feet.

Varania wiped at the tears on her cheeks, looking so small and naïve compared to him. The last rays of sunlight glinted off her copper hair. "I am a mage. Either they believe I'd be too powerful with them, or the markings would kill me. I do not know."

Fenris ran a hand through his hair and tried to quiet his thoughts that raged within him like a hurricane. He never would have wanted to hurt Astoria, or his son. The thought that his child had died at the hands of a magister because of Fenris was too much for him to handle. And yet, it was all he could think about, even after Varania quietly apologized and left him in the courtyard.

The afternoon sank away, the sky ablaze with beautiful colors that Fenris did not bother to look at. Stars twinkled in the night, a cool breeze dipped into the courtyard, and Minrathous was alive and buzzing in all other places except for where he was.

What would Astoria think of him, or of Lysander once she saw that the child had been turned into a monster? Fenris shuddered at the thought, at the idea that Astoria would not be able to look him in the eye and not resent him for the inhumane things done to the boy.

If Astoria didn't see him as a bad man yet, then she would in the matter of days. Fenris realized he needed to savor these times with her, before she saw him for what he was – a creature made to kill, a creature whose unfortunate ability condemned everyone he knew.

Fenris gathered himself and went into the house, trying not to shake.

Inside, Astoria was dancing with her brother to the sound of a lute being played by Varania. Fenris met his sister's gaze as he entered the room, but he looked away to Astoria and forced the smallest of smiles. She grinned widely at him and spun away from her brother's arms and towards Fenris. The fire in the hearth set the room in a soft glow, making some shadows dance curiously on the walls and on their faces.

He caught her and Hunter sat down, taking a long swig of his ale. Fenris put his hands on the small of her back and smiled at her, hoping he could bluff his way out of any inquiries as to what he was doing. Astoria leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. He could taste the wine she had been drinking, could smell the sweet scent of her hair.

Fenris knew that he should tell her what he knew, what Varania knew – but he couldn't break her heart like that, not yet. He felt too selfish and cowardly to tell her that he was the reason Lysander was taken from her, in more ways than just to lure him back to Tevinter. Lysander was taken from Astoria to provide a magister with a potential army of lyrium warriors. The thought was absolutely sickening, and Fenris realized he had never quite felt a rage like this.

Fenris kissed her lightly, but his fingers clutched her and pressed her to him. He tried to slow his heartbeat, tried to relax, but Astoria's presence so close to him was intoxicating, exciting. As they danced (something Fenris never thought he would do), he worried. He didn't want her to hate or blame him, or for her to be in any more pain than she had been through already. But he could make her next few days enjoyable, at least. He could do something with her that he hadn't done yet, he could _try_.

So Fenris made a plan, and he knew it was a selfish one, but part of him hoped it would make her happy as well, at least until her world comes crashing down on her when or if she sees Lysander. They danced together slowly and close, as if distance between them would almost be painful. Astoria rested her head against his chest, her fingers threading their way through the hair on the back of his neck.

They remained as such for a while, dancing together to the gentle sound of the lute, enjoying the peacefulness of the home as the afternoon slunk away into the night, and the city cooled.

It wasn't long before Hunter left and Varania excused herself to sleep, leaving Fenris and Astoria the only ones in the house to be awake. Astoria went into the kitchen to refill their glasses of Aggregio and Fenris stretched, his eyes on a small fire burning in the hearth. The clinking of glass reached his ears and he couldn't help but smirk in the slightest. It was a sound he had grown to love the past several months. As Astoria stepped into the room, he knew she couldn't suspect his unquiet thoughts through his devilish smirk. He was always good at bluffing.

Astoria handed him a glass filled with crimson wine and let him wrap an arm around her waist. For a moment they drank from their glasses and watched the fire, before Astoria's voice, tinted with the buzz she was feeling, asked him, "How did it go with Varania?"

Fenris frowned, not shifting his gaze from the fire. He swirled the wine in the glass silently before swallowing hard and clearing his throat, splaying his fingers on the small of her back. "She gave me a lengthy apology."

Astoria nodded, taking a swig as she rested a palm on his collarbone. "And how do you feel about it?"

Fenris snorted in almost incredulous bemusement. "As if I've been beaten into the ground."

"And yet you're still standing."

Fenris shut his eyes and scratched his chin before running a quick hand through his hair and dropping his arm again at his side. "I can't imagine _ever _caring for her. But I remember doing so. It doesn't feel as if it was me."

Astoria nodded, watching him thoughtfully and with great care. "I didn't put her up to it, you know. She wanted to know how best to approach you."

Fenris opened his eyes and looked at her curiously. "What is the best way to approach me?"

"I told her I had no clue."

Fenris tilted his head and sighed. "You lead me to strange places, Astoria."

She chuckled, shaking her head and finishing off her glass with vigor, indulging herself the way that she had in Wilder, that small, sleepy village by the lake. "Yes, well. Sometimes I think I've gone mad, sometimes I think I'm going mad. Before I know it a year has passed but the days still feel like they're a thousand hours long."

"I am familiar with that feeling," Fenris murmured quietly, eyes on the fire as if they were drawn inexplicably to the light. "If we go mad, it will be together, I hope."

Astoria's eyes went wide, lifting to meet his gaze when it turned to her with an intense gleam in the familiar blues. Fenris didn't waver under her stare, instead he lifted his head and waved her over towards him, closer, a welcoming gesture.

Astoria put her emptied glass on the table beside them and stepped into his outstretched arm. Fenris hooked his arm around her hips and tugged her against him.

For a few moments they stood there, and Astoria trailed her fingers up and down the exposed skin on Fenris' arms, following the paths of lyrium as he rested his cheek against her hair.

"Do you think she is sorry?" He asked quietly. "As sorry as she should be?"

A slow, long moment pulled along where Astoria ran her thumb over one of the veins of lyrium. "Yes. I do."

He nodded. "I am lucky that you found me again."

Astoria chuckled. "I am glad to hear it, Fenris," she curled her fingers around his belt, as if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Fenris tried to suppress the shiver he had as she spoke again. "I've missed you terribly. I know I shouldn't say that, but I can't hold it in any longer."

"Why not? You will not scare me off, Astoria."

"I won't?"

"No. As I said yesterday... I care for you."

Fenris put his thumb against her chin, tilting it up so they could meet each other's gaze. So often on the road he had resolved to be a good man, to do all for her that she had done for him. It was something he failed miserably at. He knew well how much emotional torture his presence had put her through for the past five and a half months – being so close but not being able to touch him, to keep herself from crying to him.

"My apologies," he muttered quietly, "your birthday is not as I imagined it."

Astoria chuckled. "It was wonderful, Fenris, you have nothing to worry of."

Oh, if only he had nothing to worry about. Minrathous was on the verge of burning, and he knew that Lysander was taken away to become like him – a cruel monster with foreign markings, repulsive and frightening. Fenris ran his knuckles up and down Astoria's arm as she rested one of her palms on his chest, shutting her eyes and smiling. She tapped two fingers along with the beat of his heart, and then she chuckled softly.

"Are you nervous, my dear?"

Fenris felt a blush forming, creeping up his neck in response to the affectionate name. He smiled, a small movement, and nodded. "Allow me to be honest?"

Astoria laughed lightly into his shoulder. "I would never keep you from honesty."

Fenris made a sound in the back of his throat and then cleared it, composing himself. "I told myself that I would hold back from you until we met Varania, that in case you were going to do me wrong, I wouldn't be close with you. You have proven your character, you've proven yourself months ago, but I wouldn't let myself believe it. I... am sorry, for doubting you. I am not used to the good in people."

Astoria's blue eyes were wide and dark, gleaming with something that made Fenris' heart beat a bit faster. He swallowed and looked away, afraid that in their position, she'd know how he felt if he kept it up.

"There is nothing to forgive, Fenris," she said with a small smile, "you've surpassed my wildest dreams."

He snorted. "Somehow I believe you are flattering me. Something I have cause to practice."

Astoria laughed aloud, her fingers dancing down the center of his chest. "I think I'm dreaming. Are you actually... flirting with me?"

Yes, she was a different creature when she drank. Fenris chuckled, focusing intently on the remaining wine in his glass, hoping to the Maker or whatever gods that be that it bolsters him. "I'd be a fool not to."

Astoria didn't pry beyond that, didn't dig any deeper because frankly, he was not a man to unload his intimate feelings unless they exploded from him in his rage or anger. And he was not angry, not upset beyond the guilt he felt for the fate of his son and the harm it would cause Astoria. If this was their last night "safe" in Minrathous, before her world would implode on itself, he wanted her to enjoy it. This was the calm before the storm, to Fenris, and he meant to be happy for a night, to make her happy for a night, even if it was all he'd ever be able to do.

Fenris crashed his mouth to hers, hungrily nipping at her lips and dragging her into his chest with one tug of his hand on the small of her back. Astoria was caught off-guard, but the Aggregio had strengthened her as well, and she kissed him back like she was starved and half-mad for it. It was only moments before they were gasping for air and Astoria was sucking back a small drop of blood on her bottom lip.

The fire crackled, a log snapping in the dry heat of the hearth. As they kissed, Fenris remembered his unlikely journey. Meeting Astoria. Watching her dance with Garret Hawke, a foreign and folky dance of the people of the south, where winters brought snow. Gazing for hours on end at the drawings, the detail in them and the love the images conveyed of a life he hadn't remembered. Crossing the Vimmark Mountains with her, holding her hand while she wept herself to sleep. Drinking on the pier in Wilder. Sparring in the sand by the lake. His birthday in Tantervale. The battle with the slavers, fleeing the city as if fire nipped at his heels. The Silent Plains.

Fenris liked his time in the Plains with her, both of them caked in dirt and thirsty – but alone with the big sky and the dusty earth. Something had shifted in their time in the Plains – Astoria had become not a burden to him, but a liberator.

And then the illness began taking over intermittently.

He thought of the pommel of the slavers sword smashing into Astoria's temple, the way she writhed and moaned in pain. His fear and panic haunted him since that day.

And then the farm outside of Minrathous – by far the best few days of his life since he could remember.

These recent memories of the past several months, when paired with the memories he could recall from before it all – before his markings, before he turned more into an animal and less a man – urged him to shove his wineglass onto the table. He gripped her by her hips, overcome with a hunger for the woman he cared so deeply for but had never acted on it.

It was a desperate thing, like he imagined the night would have been before the competition had Astoria not been ripped from his arms. Of course, he saw the similarities. A terrible sense of foreboding welled in him, as it had for a while, that this was his last night of calm. After tonight, they wouldn't be under a roof, and alone. After a few days, Astoria would find that either her son had been turned into a monster or died in the process, and likely grow to resent Fenris for his awful markings. She would never be the same.

Fenris shut his eyes tight, and angled himself so that Astoria was between him and the table. He pulled at her lip and then ran his teeth down her neck, growling, "Of late, I think of little else but you."

Astoria pulled his shoulders, so they could both be flush against each other, the heat of their bodies radiating onto the other. Fenris shuddered when one of her legs wrapped around his calf, and he braced himself against the table, hands on either side of her hips.

"Is this what you want, Fenris?" She asked, the smallest of whispers. In this, like all things, she wouldn't press him or push him. Fenris nodded against the skin of her throat, trying to calm himself.

"It is," he murmured, shivering when Astoria planted a kiss on the shell of his ear. He touched his lips to her shoulder, and tightened his grip on the edge of the table for support. Astoria's hands went to the fastenings of his tunic and suddenly Fenris was leading her back into their small room, ignoring the fire burning in the hearth.

He shut the door, shutting his eyes briefly, willing himself to have the courage to continue. There would be no going back, he thought alarmingly. But that didn't frighten him as much as he would have imagined. Fenris turned, and smiled as he watched Astoria light a candle to stifle the darkness.

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><p><strong>Don't worry - the next chapter will continue where this left off. But first, I wanted your opinions - for scenes such as the one coming up, do you like more detail or do you like to kind of fill in the blanks? And also, Fallon Idalia had a great idea of a chapter focusing on Lysander (Thank you!)- I think I may start working on that. =)<strong>


	48. Of All the Pleasures in the World

**Thank you so much to Kira Tamarion, H3r3tic, Justpeachy129, Fallon-Idalia, WinterBear, Wicked Lullaby and Angels Poison for your reviews! You guys keep motivating me, and without you all, this story wouldn't be where it is today.**

**That being said, Kira Tamarion is right - I've been teasing you guys long enough! Thanks for being so patient, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm not too experienced with sex-scenes, but I hope it's sufficient. =)**

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><p>The tiny candle flickered, dimly bathing the room in a golden glow while chasing out the darkness and smothering both fears and demons. <em>Fenris and Astoria<em>. He looked across the illuminated expanse between them, the distance feeling like miles, but miles he could cross in the blink of an eye. He leaned against the door, his hands pinned behind him, trying to focus on the dryness of the wooden door.

Fenris and Astoria. It was just the two of them in that room. The space seemed to constrict on itself, leaving only them alone in all the world. Astoria smiled, the candlelight flickering and casting the shadows on her face to dance. A moment passed. Fenris cleared his throat, nervous.

"We don't have to, Fenris -"

He shook his head quickly. "No, I... I want to. Please. May I? _We_?"

He hadn't felt so tongue-tied in all his life. Fenris was good with words, even when he spoke them in anger. But now they escaped him. Astoria smiled, having the grace to do so, and went to him. She stopped in front of him, her fingers curling nervously into her palms. Fenris' breath hitched when Astoria began unfastening the ties and laces of her tunic.

Fenris watched her in silent amazement, completely fascinated as Astoria shrugged out of the tunic and moved onto the trousers. She unlaced them and pushed them down over her hips, over her knees and then she stepped away from them, presenting herself before him. Fenris felt his breath catching in his throat, his heart hammering hard in his chest. She stood in her breastband and smalls, the toes on her bare feet curling in anxiety. If she was nervous, it was hard for him to tell other than by noticing the way she chewed on her bottom lip, cheeks slightly flushed.

Fenris tried not to seem lecherous, but he admired her curves, his eyes sweeping appreciatively over her nearly naked body. He went to her and pushed her curls over her shoulders, exposing her collarbones, before pressing a kiss to her temple, the one where she had been bashed by the slaver in the jungle. His stomach squirmed thinking of it, partly in anger and partly in a need to protect the last person in the world to truly care for him.

Astoria gasped lightly, almost too quietly as he kissed her there, and she worked with the fastenings of his black tunic. Fenris moved his lips to her neck as he bent slightly over her, awkward with his height, and put his palms on her hips, fingers splaying out curiously, spreading out on her warm and bare flesh.

"I..." Astoria began, her voice similar to a wanting moan that made Fenris' heart slam against his chest, "I ache for your touch." Fenris thought for a brief moment that he would pass out, but he tightened his grip on her hips only half for balance. "I have needed you for so long," she confessed, sounding partly embarrassed.

"You will have me," Fenris growled in a low and husky voice, moving his fingers up her waist to undo her breastband. He let the material fall away from her, but he kissed her on the lips hard and long first, like he had at the farm and in the Silent Plains. Then he ran the slender fingers of one hand up her side and brushed the back of his bare knuckles across her chest. Astoria shivered and hooked her own hands over the hem of his leggings, tugging him closer to her.

Then he scooped her up, crouching down and gripping the back of her thighs, lifting her up as she wrapped her legs around him. Astoria laughed and put her arms over his shoulders, leaning forward to kiss him. Fenris carried her to the bed and gently let her down, holding his weight on his elbows over her. He got out from between her legs and laid beside her, placing one hand on her neck and turning her face towards his as he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply, like he had wanted to do for months.

In the sweet dimness of the room, the silence pressed but it was not completely overbearing, and Fenris found himself too lost in his actions to care about anything at all other than the task at hand. Astoria's hands roamed over his lyrium-marked chest, toned and lean as it was, and pushed against his leggings as if they offended her. He helped her take them off of him, and suddenly they were both equally dressed in their smalls.

Fenris pushed a lock of Astoria's hair behind her ear and hummed in pleasure when Astoria kissed the hollow on his neck, just under his ear. She smelt like lavender and sweet wine, apples and smoke, and she felt warm and gentle beneath him. Fenris thrummed his fingers along Astoria's curve of her hip, to her chest, and then down, gentle as they ever had been.

Then something shifted. Astoria kissed him with a vigor, her hands pulling him desperately onto her, making their embrace more a thing of need than anything. Fenris rolled his weight onto her with the encouragement of her hands. He knelt on the bed, nudging one knee between her thighs, and curled his fingers around the hem of her smalls.

Astoria groaned encouragingly, and Fenris tried not to suck in his breath too hard as he dropped her smalls to the floor and saw her in her complete nakedness before him. She was beautiful, magnificent, even with the scars he had never seen before. A long white one under her left breast from where he assumed she had been slashed with a knife. The burn on her ankle where the flames had also seared some of her calf. From carrying a child, she had some slight, faded stretch marks just above her pelvis. But Fenris wasn't repulsed by it. It endeared her to him more, if anything. He smiled when he saw them and leaned down and kissed them gently, on each side.

Then he climbed back up beside her, moving one hand down towards her center while he kissed her. Nervous, Fenris claimed her mouth in his, eagerly and desperately. His breath hitched when Astoria wrapped her leg around him, and she moaned as he moved his thumb around her, his fingers brushing her sex.

It wasn't enough it seemed, after a few minutes, and Astoria drew him closer to her, her hands fumbling on his own smalls, pushing them down over his narrow hips. Astoria smiled as Fenris kicked himself free from them, and he gazed at her with an expression darkened by desire and wanting, in a way she had only been able to glimpse at until now.

Fenris didn't want to prolong the foreplay, and he could tell by Astoria's grasping, needing hands that she had missed a man's touch, his touch, for too long. With one hand slicked with the essence of her, he lowered his weight onto her, propped up on his elbows, and nudged open her thighs with his knees.

Astoria arched her back, trying to get closer to him, and Fenris shut his eyes briefly, trying to ground himself. He positioned himself correctly at her entrance, sucking in a breath. They gazed at each other, each seeking full consent, before Fenris slid into her and bit out a Tevinter curse. He dropped his head, fully inside her, and waited for Astoria's suddenly tense body to relax before he moved.

After a moment, she relaxed her legs around him and smiled, her fingers splaying on the back of his shoulders. Fenris tried to focus on something other than how completely wonderful she felt around him. Then Fenris began to move, kissing the crook of her neck like she was delicate and could fall apart easily in his arms.

Astoria arched against him, her soft moans sounding to border on the edge of pain. Fenris moved slowly with her, affectionately, and found himself murmuring curses into her hair, chanting them in a slow, deliberate, husky litany.

Time passed. The candle slanted the golden glow of the light across Astoria in the most beautiful way, he thought. Her breasts, nose and eyelashes cast dramatic shadows across her skin.. Fenris' thrusts moved from a slow and gentle pace to something faster and more desperate, where he was sure he was bruising her thighs and even still could not stop himself. The unexpected pleasure of it all made him fist his hands in her hair, part of an effort to ground himself and not lose control. He moved fast, egged on by Astoria's moaning. His corded muscles strained with the effort, the exertion of it. She tried to muffle herself against his shoulder, but as he pushed her over the brink, she couldn't help it anymore.

Astoria went rigid as Fenris' thrusting brought her to the edge. She cried out his name, "Fenris," and chewed on her lip to keep from being too loud. Fenris couldn't control himself anymore. He groaned, overcome with primal lust, his muscles tensing and spasming. Fenris spilled within her and bit out her name hotly, his fists of her hair jerking against his will.

Slick with sweat, Fenris collapsed onto her in his exhaustion, still sheathed within her. If he had known it would have felt so wonderful, he would have done it months ago. Fenris' breath came in ragged and fast, as he untangled his hands from her hair and rolled off her, onto his side so he could still look at her. Astoria was smiling, bathing in a glow that Fenris decided suited her well.

He gave a small laugh, relief washing through him, pent-up longing and reservations long gone now.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, still short of breath. Astoria's chest was heaving also, but she laughed. Fenris supported his head in his hand, leaning on one elbow. Her hair was spread out in messy curls on the pillow of the bed.

She rolled onto her side to face him, her blue eyes gleaming in something akin to joy. "Thank you, Fenris. For everything."

She leaned to him and kissed him softly. She fell back into the bed and Fenris laid down too, pulling her in. Resting her head on his chest, Astoria traced the paths of lyrium on his body.

"Did I harm you?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper and it sounded as if it was a question brought on by embarrassment.

"No - Maker, no," she explained. "I promise."

"Very well. "

Fenris lifted his head and kissed the top of hers, his lips brushing against her hair. He settled back into the bed and Astoria rested her chin on his chest, looking at him curiously.

"May I ask why you're frowning?" She asked softly, her fingers dancing along his collarbone. Fenris's green gaze, bright even in the dimness of the room, flitted across her.

"I... I had hoped... no, it is no use."

"You had hoped what?" He realized he had done something wrong by the way her voice sounded disappointed.

"I thought that our joining would have... brought more memories." Fenris watched her carefully, examining her reaction. She gave him the smallest smile, encouragingly.

"I'm sorry."

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "It is of no matter. I have a new memory now, and I will never forget it."

But as he fell asleep cradling Astoria against his chest, the candle burning low and dimly, he did begin to remember more.


	49. Varania's Offer

**Ahhh! Thank you all so, so much! Thank you to Fallon-Idalia (oh my goodness, I almost cried reading your review), Pint-sized She-Bear, Kira Tamarion and H3r3tic and Angels Poison - I seriously take so much motivation from your reviews and it helps so much! Thank you for all your patience and time reading this!**

**And I am cruel for making everyone feel bad for Varania (so sorry!) - but I've always personally felt bad for her.**

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><p><em>Leto gripped the cot as he awoke, searching for a warm body that was not there. He opened his jade eyes. Perhaps she was outside, watching the sunrise like she often did with his mother. Leto fumbled, trying to rid himself of the groggy feeling in his limbs and head, and stood. He went to the door, even when his mother called out for him not to as she peeled an orange.<em>

_Leto stepped out into the morning. He could hear cicadas, morning birds, could see the dew on the grass glistening where the sun's early rays slanted across them. Astoria liked watching the grass early in the morning, it reminded her of going to the market in Ferelden and in Orlais, where she'd see vendors selling gems – always dazzling and beautiful._

_Leto fell to his knees and screamed, because of all the things he usually saw this early, Astoria was not among them. She was taken away last night, violated. And now he would never see her again – either he'd die, or he'd live and go away to live with that magister that looked at him like a pretty whore, like something to be had._

_Sharna was there, dragging him back into the cabin, the hovel that was his home. She kept saying his name, trying to get him to calm down._

_"I'll kill him!" Leto was shouting, meaning the magister, Mavion. "I'll kill him for taking her away!"_

_"No -" Sharna said, gripping his shoulders firmly and meeting his gaze with intensity. "No, you set her free, Leto. Win, and this will never happen to her again."_

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><p><em>Leto coughed up the sand that lodged itself in his throat, deep and dry and rough. When he coughed it up, blood came with it, and it tasted hot and metallic in his cheeks. Blood was streaming down his back, abdomen, side, thigh and shoulder, and Leto was sure his nose was also broken. He wanted to sleep in the sand in the hot sun, but the roaring of his opponent was near and threatening.<em>

_He rolled, almost too slow, out of the way of his opponent's hammer as it crashed down near his head. How many men had he killed today? Five. Leto knew their faces, the sounds of their voices as they died. He knew how he killed each one. The first two were easy to kill, physically, but their deaths left him breathless, anxious and horrified at himself, at the crowd for cheering._

_The first elf had died from a deep gash in his side. The second had had his head bashed in by the hammer Leto had to wield for that round. The third had his throat slit, as did the fourth. The fifth proved difficult. Leto's fingers on one hand had been smashed, and it was excruciating to hold his sword that he was allowed. The man died after Leto had straddled him and punched him with his good hand before kicking him in the head._

_Now, it was Leto's last opponent that was facing him now – and one of them would die. This man was monstrous, his magister had certainly prepared him for such a fight. Leto did not feel so ready._

_He scrambled to his feet, staggering and gasping in pain. He kicked sand up at his opponent while he struggled to grab onto his sword with both hands. His opponent reeled back, shouting, as he tried wiping the sand from his features._

_Leto charged forward with all the strength he had, half falling as he thrust his sword forward. It grazed the man's collarbone, effectively cutting through the trapezius muscle. The man cried out, dropping his hammer and clutching his injury._

_The momentum of Leto's attack sent him falling into the sand again, clumsily as a drunk. Instinctively, he reached out with both hands and bit his lip when he landed on his broken hand, trying not to scream in agony. He knew that he had just injured the man's arm too badly to be used. Now they were both on an even playing field._

_By now the crowd had at least stopped cheering for his death as they had in the first two rounds, that was well enough._

_Leto didn't care that the man was down, on his knees while he clutched his bleeding collarbone. Leto gripped his sword, gritting his teeth against the pain, and swung it into the man's neck._

_His opponent slumped into the sand without a word, blood staining the beige ground. Leto left his sword embedded in the man and looked out at the crowd around him. He had won. He had won it all. Astoria, Varania and Sharna would be free within the day._

_He met eyes with Danarius – the guest of honor as the competition's winner would go to him. The magister was smiling at him appreciatively, his cold eyes shining with an odd delight._

_Leto spat at the ground and limped away from the body, hoping the stench of death would not follow him, that he could wash their blood from his hands._

_Leto was led back to a cell to bleed and brood, and it was a while before Danarius found him. Grinning, the magister leaned on his staff and peered in through the iron bars._

_"You've done well, little one."_

_Leto stared at him, dazed, for a moment before struggling to get to his feet. This was his new master. The realization was haunting, and Fenris wanted to reach through the bars and hurt the magister for making him kill so many innocent people, elves that were in his very predicament. Those elves had mothers, sisters, wives to free as well. It was a stroke of luck that he was given the honor._

_Danarius looked at him slowly, his eyes sweeping up and down Leto's body. "Hmmm... you fight like a wolf, has anyone told you that?"Leto shook his head, wincing when Danarius chuckled, more of a cackle. "Ah, but you are. You're just the heartless creature I need for a bodyguard."_

_Leto almost screamed, the words stung so much. He was far from heartless, far from fine for murdering all those people. Their faces would haunt him forever, he knew. But he knew he'd do it again. He'd kill one hundred, one thousand men to free them. He didn't regret it, but he didn't think he'd ever be the same. It was their blood on his hands, dried and caked in and tainted with dirt._

_Leto shuddered involuntarily, and Danarius arched an eyebrow. "Does the wolf frighten easily?"_

_Oh, no. Leto steeled himself, and it was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. Danarius wouldn't go back on the bargain, could he? "No, Master," Leto said, trying to sound strong and firm._

_Danarius smiled. "Good. You've been trained well, despite being raised by that fool Mavion. You'll find that I'm much unlike him. Come here, closer."_

_Leto took the few tentative steps towards Danarius, towards the bars of the cell, and lowered his gaze respectfully. Danarius' hand reached in and grabbed his jaw, forcing his face from side to side. "Hmmm..." said the magister appraisingly, "yes... little wolf, I know just what I will do with you."_

* * *

><p><em>Later, Mavion's guards brought Leto in a small carriage back to the estate, sitting inside with him so he would not run. Not that he would, anyway. The conditions of the boon were that Astoria, Varania and Sharna would be freed if Leto gave himself up. If he ran, he'd ruin the contract. He wouldn't do that.<em>

_The magister's estate came into view, and once on the grounds and out of the carriage, Leto stumbled as fast as he could to see his family. He managed to cross the meadow, even in the blistering heat of the afternoon, meanwhile ripping open what little scabs he had accrued after the competition._

_He had a few hours. From what he understood, Danarius was on his way to Mavion's, and would be having dinner at the estate. From there, Danarius would retrieve Leto and Astoria, Varania and Sharna would be freed, let to wander away from the estate with no pursuit of guards._

_The thought, the dream, the fantasy, brought a smile to his face even though he knew he'd never see them again, even though he was half bent over in pain and nauseaus. Leto still smiled, but as he reached the door to his home, he let it fall because though it was a miracle he was alive and his family was free, it was not a good day for them._

_He opened the door and staggered into the room. Crying, sobbing stopped abruptly. Leto saw Varania cradling Astoria in her arms. An odd sight if he ever saw one. Varania was not the nurturing, soothing type. She had been a wreck for weeks, while Astoria had somehow remained strong._

_Sharna was silent, her eyes vacantly on the wall opposite her. When he walked in, she looked at him and the haunted look on her face vanished instantly._

_"Leto!" Sharna said, her voice breathless. In a moment Astoria and Varania were on their feet as well, sobbing in relief._

_The next few minutes passed too quickly than Leto would have liked. Varania healed what she could of his wounds, Sharna shoved food in front of him and Astoria kissed him repeatedly on the cheek, neck, forehead, lips and shoulders, as if she could not believe that he was there and alive._

_"Who were the guards?" Leto demanded to know, though he was not angry at Astoria. He looked for bruises, cuts, but could find nothing. "Tell me, I'll kill them-"_

_"Leto," Astoria said calmly, "I was left alone," she explained. "I had a talk with the magister, he said that he hoped if you thought... something happened, that you'd fight better. He thought it'd make you angry."_

_But it didn't convince him at first. "Where were you this morning?"_

_"I wasn't allowed to leave the bodyslave's quarters until you had already left. I tried breaking out, I – I had to say good-bye, just in case-" tears spilled from her eyes and Leto pulled her in close, despite the wounds on his body._

_He knew very well that she could be lying, just to make him feel alright about it all. Astoria was considerate like that, but she was honest. Leto buried his face in her hair and wondered if it would have that familiar lavender scent years from now._

_Reality sunk in. Yes, he was alive, by some favor of the gods perhaps. Yes, everyone he loved would have the freedom they deserved. No, he would not see them again. No, he could no longer protect them from the terrors of the world – not while he remained bound and chained to a life of servitude. Leto gritted his teeth as Sharna wiped away the blood, gore and dirt that she could from his body._

_"How are you doing, my love?" Astoria asked him after things had settled down and anxiety settled in. She had his hands in hers, those blue eyes wide in something like fear._

_Leto shook his head. "I don't want to ruin our last... afternoon... with it. I will be fine, mellita, but..." He shut his eyes, afraid that he'd lose control of himself. He had never had to pull himself together quite so much, had never been through a day as trying as this one – though there were a few days that competed closely._

_"I... I'm sorry for all I've put you through. I never meant it all to happen," he found himself saying. He meant the whipping, Astoria being dragged away by guards, marrying her though they both knew it would end like this if she were not made a widow._

_"Leto, no -" she told him, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "you've made my life the amazing and beautiful thing it is. I'm sorry that you are going, that I cannot come with you. I would. I'd gladly give it up, I'd rather be with you-"_

_"No, you'll never get this chance again. This Danarius won't be as kind as Mavion, I can tell it. Besides, I need you to take care of them." Leto nodded across the room to his sister and mother, who were packing their belongings, tears in their eyes._

_Leto hadn't let them pack before, in case he had perished in the competition. He could only imagine how awful it would have been for them to unpack afterwards, if this were the case._

_"I will, Leto. I will take care of them for all my years."_

_Leto cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and deep, tears in his own eyes. For several minutes, Leto clutched onto her and cried with her, the events of the day catching up to him. The faces of all those he killed, feeling like a starved dog thrown in a pen. The roaring of the crowd when he struck a blow or was hit himself would haunt him forever._

_The hours of the afternoon passed. Leto had never wanted to curse the passing of time more. Each minute brought their departure closer. The sun slanted across Tevinter, ineffectively cooling down the heat of the day._

_When it came time to say good-bye, they were all standing at the gates of the estate with their bags. A carriage to Danarius' awaited him, while the open road awaited his family. Leto clung to his mother and sister and told them to be strong, not to mourn him, to always be there for each other. They told him how much they loved him, how he would be just fine, how he needed to find his own freedom when he could. They were all pipe dreams, but they brought him through the moment._

_Leto dragged Astoria into his chest and kissed her hard and deep as the sun began to set behind the horizon. "I love you, I love you, never forget it, mellita."_

_"I love you, Leto. You'll be free someday, I'll be waiting, I promise."_

_And then she was sobbing and Leto tightened his grip around her, trying to revel in the scent of her hair. "Take care of them, of yourself. Be happy. Please. I love you."_

_Iron gauntlets were grabbing at him, telling him to hurry up. He could have held her forever, his farewell could have lasted for years, but alas they would not allow it. Leto was pulled from his wife, sister and mother, and they were all weeping for him._

_He straightened himself and settled. Their last memory of him would not be him struggling against the guards. He'd walk away with his head held high, confident of the road ahead. Perhaps they'd adopt that as well._

_He stepped into the carriage, and as soon as he sat, the horses were trotting off. The carriage bounced and jerked on the dirt road, but Leto didn't care. He stared out the back of the carriage at the three women as they began walking in his direction._

_Even as the carriage turned out of view of them, he watched for them. Now they were free. Leto would never see it himself, he knew, but they had it. They had their lives under their own control. There was no greater gift for them._

_Leto found himself smiling. They were free. They were free. It was all that had mattered._

* * *

><p>Fenris opened his eyes and gained his bearings. Astoria was wrapped in his arms, and he was in the bed of the spare bedroom in Varania's home. He remembered the previous night, pressed a soft kiss to her neck, and climbed out of the bed deftly, trying not to wake her.<p>

He found himself in the living room, drawn by the heat and light of the smoldering fire, burning low in the hearth though he was sure the day was hot as sin outside. The buildings of Minrathous were good at keeping out the heat.

Fenris sighed and dropped himself into the nearest armchair. He'd have to wake Astoria up soon, it would be dawn and they'd have to be ready to leave the city behind.

The front door to the home groaned as it swung in, and Varania stepped in with Solara on her hip and a sack of something hanging over her shoulder. She didn't notice Fenris at first, but when she did she dropped the sack to the floor. Fenris watched his sister kick aside the sack, which seemed to be filled with cloth, and shut the door behind her.

"Good... morning," she said, sounding unsure of whether it was safe to actually speak to him.

Fenris stared hard at the fire. "Good morning."

Varania let Solara down onto the ground. The little girl cooed and giggled when she noticed Fenris, but she didn't travel across the room to go to him.

"Are you hungry?" Varania asked, wiping her palms on her dress.

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. He was hungry, in all honesty, and this would be his last meal before getting on the road, but he didn't want to accept anything from her.

Varania gave a nod and walked by him and into the kitchen, leaving Solara and him in the room alone. He watched the child warily, watched her play with the corner of the rug on the floor. After a few minutes, he got up and went into the kitchen, leaning his shoulder against the frame of the doorway.

Varania had gone through enough, he admitted to himself reluctantly. It would be unfair to remain so cruel to her, though he didn't want to show her much kindness. Perhaps he'd rest easier if he did, he wondered.

"How did you know that about Lysander?" He asked. She had known he was there, standing several feet behind her, because she did not jump or tense.

Varania paused dicing a pepper, the blade of her knife tapping against the wooden countertop. "When they took Lysander, I was... working for Danarius. Astoria had taught me to read," she said, leaning her hip against the counter and gesturing vaguely while Fenris crossed his arms, "and I found some notes. Letters. Maps. Orders to slavers."

Fenris narrowed his eyes. Varania took a breath. "This was not too long before he found you, and he was out in full force trying to find you. Anyway, amongst the letters and such, I found a different one. I don't know who it was addressed to, but in it, Danarius was angry. He was accusing someone of stealing his idea, of 'trying to make an army of... lyrium warriors.' At the time, we had just discovered that there was something genetic. A magister across the Imperium... his lyrium warrior had a child who was able to bear the markings."

Fenris sucked in a breath and vaguely heard Astoria getting up, likely packing their things. Varania continued, not looking at Fenris. "When Danarius learned this, it was a race to get to Lysander. But Valinius hadn't bothered to get Astoria – I think he wanted to try with Lysander first, with the intention of going back for her."

Fenris didn't like that idea. But Varania shrugged. "I don't know, exactly, what he was thinking, or what Danarius was thinking. But Danarius already had plans to meet you at that point, and I didn't know that it was Valinius who had taken away Lysander."

Solara babbled in the other room, and Varania met Fenris' stare awkwardly. Her hands were shaking even as she held the knife. It disgusted him in a way, that his own sister was as deathly afraid of him as a wounded animal deer before a wolf.

"I still do not understand... how did it take you so long to discover it was Valinius?"

Varania stared at the counter sadly. "You killed Danarius, I took his money and fled back here, of all places. It's all I know, I'm a coward, I never thought of going south, I don't know. Anyway... I settled down here, I had a child so I had no choice. Then... roughly six months ago, maybe a bit more, Valinius showed up here, looking for you and Astoria. I told him I didn't know, that you and I were estranged and because of that, Astoria hated me also." She scoffed and her mossy eyes were brimming with tears. Fenris felt a small pang of sympathy for her, but he shoved it back down into the depths of his being, irritated with himself.

"It was obvious to me, who took Lysander then," Varania explained. "Danarius liked to show you off, but he never told a soul about how you had a wife and son, and he knew about Lysander a long time ago." She shook her head.

Fenris cocked his head, arms still crossed, his fingers digging into his skin. "So how did Valinius know of them?"

"Mavion," Varania frowned. "Valinius and Mavion were close before Mavion passed on. I suppose at the time he made nothing of it, but Valinius knew what your boon was for the competition. And I believe he had a vague idea at the time what Danarius wanted to do with the winner. He knew all along that you had a wife. But Lysander... I believe he is another story."

Fenris almost shuddered, almost gagged and vomited with the effort of holding himself together. "What do you mean? Why would he take Lysander and not Astoria?"

Varania bit her bottom lip for a moment. "I think about that all the time. But Astoria can't find you when she's behind bars, can she? As a mother, her first instinct would be to escape to find him. But when you reverse the roles... Astoria always knew she couldn't storm a magister's estate by herself. I think, and Astoria believes this as well, that so far, you've both been going along with the magister's plan."

Fenris scowled, gritting his teeth. "But what choice do we have?"

Varania looked at him so solemnly, so filled with sorrow that he wondered how she didn't cry. "If it was Solara, I'd... there'd be no choice."

Fenris frowned and tilted his head, glancing sidelong into the other room where the baby played, fascinated with the rug. He looked at Varania again, and wondered when the little girl, the innocent sister from his memories turned into a cold-hearted bitch and then into a mother.

"I... I never wanted to be a father."

Varania scoffed. "I never wanted to be a mother. But I saw her," Varania nodded her head towards the other room, "felt her inside me... and then I understood how Astoria did it, how that woman survived."

Fenris shut his eyes briefly, but opened them again as Varania spoke. "You would have been just as enamored by Lysander if you ever saw him. You always wanted to be a father, wanted to marry Astoria. You wanted to live by the sea and take up a humble trade."

At that point the door to the bedroom swung open slowly and Astoria stepped out with their bags, everything but his greatsword. Fenris gave her a faint smile as she stepped into the hallway and approached. She looked confused as she noticed that Varania was also in the kitchen, and then she smiled again at Fenris.

"Good morning," Astoria said to the both of them.

"I'm a different man now," Fenris told Varania, his gaze level.

Varania looked at a confused Astoria with a familial smile and then shook her head at Fenris, turning back to chopping the vegetables. "No, you aren't."

He was too exhausted, too emotionally drained to hate her any longer. Perhaps it was all that he had learned about her, perhaps it was that she had offered her home as a safe haven for them, perhaps it was that he was too tired to harbor any strong emotions. A grudge needs energy in order to stay alive, and Fenris wasn't sure he had it in him to wish revenge on her. After all, he had wanted to let Hadriana go instead of killing her, and Hadriana had caused him more torment than Varania. Varania had been his link to many things – meeting Astoria, Danarius' demise and Fenris' freedom.

Maybe he had her to thank. Instead, Fenris gave a small nod and uncrossed his arms. Astoria went past them, leaving them to whatever conversation they were having. He knew that any conversation would be good in Astoria's eyes.

And Varania was as much Astoria's sister as his now, through marriage or bond through emotional struggle. It was his fault, though unintentional, that Lysander had been taken from her. Had he the right to destroy one of the last relationships she had in her life? No, he knew.

"Thank you for... lending out your home," Fenris said sincerely. Varania's mossy eyes shot to him, curiously and as if she wasn't sure to believe him or not.

She took the high road of course. "My home is always open to you, Fenris."

He resisted the cruel things he wanted to say and nodded, trying to appear thankful. If anything, it was a place for Astoria to come back to, should he perish or leave or... whatever. Fenris knew he couldn't leave her, but if she discarded him after finding Lysander, he would have to listen.

"I truly hope that you find him," Varania said solemnly, "you'd... you'd love him." She shook her head and crossed her arms, relaxing against the counter. In her mossy eyes she held a nostalgic look, staring off at something it seemed only she could see. "He's... he _was_ just like you were. Those eyes... oh, my. I've never seen eyes like his, or yours."

Fenris scrunched his nose, feeling uncomfortable.

"You say you aren't the same man, Fenris. But you are." She looked at him levelly, eyes with unshed tears. "The way you look at her, underneath I see what I used to see in you. Mother would..." Varania shook her head then and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself not to cry.

Fenris stared at her across the kitchen, almost feeling irritated that she couldn't finish her sentence. "Stop comparing me to who I was, Varania," he ordered, his voice just less intimidating than a snarl, "it's unfair. You have the advantage of knowing me before then. I am not so privileged." Fenris clenched his fists, but wouldn't say anything else.

Varania nodded, blinking back her tears. "I'm sorry. I'm only trying to -"

Fenris shot her a look and she stopped speaking. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing that he had to keep trying. "Is that Danarius' child?" He asked, his voice icy. So much for trying.

Varania's eyes widened and she started wringing her hands. "I'm unsure. I loved a man, but Danarius killed him around that time. He was awful to me, Fenris, I've never hated another soul so much. I didn't know what he had done to you until I saw you, and I hated him all the more for it. But by then it was... too late. I never wanted to. I think Danarius was trying to find someone else with your bloodline, trying to have a child that wasn't a mage to get your brands." Her voice was just over a whisper, so Astoria wouldn't hear her. "Solara would just have been another investment to him."

Fenris' years of harsh conditioning had helped him to keep a straight, neutral expression in the face of such things, but since he had been free, he hadn't used this skill as much. Now, he stared at her fiercely, but his expression faded slowly as the realization of what Varania was implying sunk in.

Varania had suffered at the hands of him, just like he had. Not only was her lover murdered but Solara, an innocent child, was created in order to be like him. Another investment, as Varania had so truthfully put it.

"Is Solara a mage?"

Varania's green eyes flickered, pain evident in them, to the wall and back to him. "I... I don't know yet. I believe she is. But I can't feel it. I can't exactly feel the fade in her. Mages don't grow into their power until they're about twelve, I won't know until then."

Fenris frowned, his weight leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Lysander could still be a mage, then."

"I can't imagine one family having that much terrible luck," Varania replied. "But it is possible. Yes."

Silence stretched between them. At last, Fenris asked, "Will you stay in Tevinter?"

"No, I want to leave here desperately. I can't be in the city more, or in this wretched country. I don't want Solara to spend her life living in fear of being captured into slavery."

Fenris snorted and crossed his arms again. "I wish our parents had thought of doing the same thing."

"Our father had, actually," Varania explained, recalling a story she had been told, many years prior, "but our mother loved him too much to leave. He wanted her to go live with the Dalish clans."

"And condemned us," Fenris finished.

Varania pressed her lips together tightly and gave a small nod. "I wonder where we'd be... if she had listened."

Fenris leaned his head against the doorframe. "Why would Danarius kill your... lover?"

Varania, a woman torn by years of pain and anguish rivaling Astoria's, wiped at a few tears gathering in her mossy eyes. She swallowed hard and then shook her head. "He was a horrid man who fed on the misery of others, was he not? My... lover... had never done anything to him. He was a simple man, a leatherworker. An elf who could barely keep his head above water, like all the rest of us. Danarius killed him with... a flick of his wrist, like he was a bug to be squished."

Fenris couldn't quell the pity he felt for her then, he couldn't hate her any longer. He realized that they had never been enemies. If he put himself in her shoes, he realized he may have done things much more awful than she.

Perhaps it had been a blessing that his memories had been taken from him. He wondered that sometimes, even still as he could remember some bits of his life. Varania had to live with them, with all the terrible things she had seen and gone through. Her lover had been murdered before her, and Fenris' was still alive and well. Perhaps she had gone through more than he. He rarely saw anyone he thought may claim that title.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Fenris said softly, and he meant it.

She gave the smallest hint of a smile. "Thank you."

A moment passed, and just as Fenris was turning to leave the room, Varania spoke up again. "Fenris... if you would allow it..." he turned and looked at her expectantly, "I'd like to come with you. With both of you."

His immediate reaction was to answer her with a resounding "no," but Fenris knew she'd be valuable. As a mage, and once a potential magister, she had knowledge and abilities that were rare and needed in the rebellion. She would be a phenomenal help, though burdened by a baby.

"I'm..." Fenris nearly choked on his answer, "sorry?"

Varania seemed embarrassed. "I'd do whatever you both need me to do. I'll help out with anything. Solara is quiet, she wouldn't give us issues, and I think my abilities could be useful."

Fenris' voice got lost in his throat. He turned, bewildered, to look for Astoria, who was approaching with Solara on her hip.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, with a warm smile.

Varania spoke up when Fenris couldn't answer. "I asked if I could come with you both – get Lysander back and leave Tevinter. From there I'd part ways, but I want to help you before then. I'd love to go with you both, and Solara won't be a bother."

Astoria's blue eyes flickered to Fenris, trying to determine how he felt about this. "Would you fight?"

Varania nodded fervently. "I'd fight magisters, mages, whoever."

"We're leaving in just a few minutes, Varania."

"I know," she answered, mouse-like and quiet, "I have my essentials packed. Just in case you would have me."

"Fenris?" Astoria asked him. "What would you say?"

He swallowed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Venhedis," he growled and then threw up his hands in frustration. "Very well, let's make haste. I hope you know how foolish it is to take a child on this journey. Don't slow us down, Varania."

Varania's eyes widened and she leapt forward and hugged Astoria. "Thank you, thank you, I won't disappoint either of you, I promise."

Fenris grunted in response and looked at Astoria with a burning in his eyes that only she could see. "May I have a moment with you?" He asked, his voice a whisper.

"Of course," she said and handed off Solara to Varania. She followed Fenris down the hall and into the room where they had slept, made love. Fenris shut the door behind them and leaned back on it.

Astoria seemed nervous as she sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her ankles. Fenris noticed the blue sari folded on the nightstand, and he wanted to kick himself. He had never officially given it to her.

"Er," he began, pushing off the door and going to the sari. He picked the fabric up in his hands, feeling how smooth and soft it was, and held it out for Astoria. "I got this for you. Yesterday."

Her matching blue eyes widened and she grinned, reaching out a tentative hand to the cloth. "Oh, Fenris, it's beautiful."

He gave her a small, tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you, Fenris." She stood and wrapped it around her shoulders and made herself a makeshift hood of blue and silver. Fenris was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful. He gave the slightest nod. "It's magnificent," she said and kissed him gently.

"But... you left the bed early... was last night not to your liking?"

Fenris nearly choked again. "No, not at all, Astoria – I... it was fantastic, better than I could have ever dreamed. I just... I remembered the day of the competition. Most of it. I wanted to think about it."

She nodded. "So you do not regret it?"

"No, I do not," he answered, his voice firm. "I do not want to leave your side."

"Nor I yours. But Fenris... it's not going to be easy... especially with Varania. Are you sure you would have her come with us?"

He ran a hand through his white hair and sighed. "I believe she would prove useful, I suppose."

Astoria smiled and fastened her scarf around her with a pin. "You astound me, Fenris. You are so much more of the man than I ever expected."

Within the hour, Fenris stood in the doorway to Varania's home, waiting. The pictures had been taken down and secured in a small sack along with Varania's other belongings she was going to take with her.

"You aren't selling your home?" He heard Astoria ask as they packed what they could of the remaining food.

"It was never mine to begin with, honestly," Varania had answered. Fenris smirked and leaned his head back against the doorframe, trying to convince himself to take slow and deep breaths.

And then like that, shortly afterwards, Astoria went to him with Varania behind her and Solara seated in some cloth contraption that held her to Varania. Fenris's emerald gaze flitted between the three of them and focused on Astoria.

"Are we ready?" He asked. He had no idea how they would leave the city, how they would leave the Imperium, all alive with an extra child – Lysander. Fenris glanced at the baby, Solara, wrapped in light cloth that Varania had spun especially for her, to keep the dust and heat from her. How would they all survive in such a broken land?

Astoria looked at Varania, who nodded. Her familiar eyes were wide in anxiety and fear, and she nervously ran her hand up and down Solara's arm. Her other hand gripped a staff with a gnarled wooden head.

Astoria looked at Fenris and smiled. "Let's go."

He took a breath, hoping it would be enough to push him out the door and onto the road, the last stretch of their journey. They were in the deepest part of the heart of the Imperium, and there was nowhere more dangerous than here.

Fenris shut his eyes and pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping into the searing sunlight. All around him the city seemed to be burning.


	50. Let Them Come

**Thank you so much to Kira Tamarion, Fallon-Idalia, Thot84, and Pint-Sized She-Bear for your reviews! You're all so wonderful!**

**The first half of this chapter was Fallon-Idalia's idea - she wanted to see a bit of Lysander. And I'm not so cruel as to have him be dead (how horrible would that be?), so I thought I'd give you some insight. =) But that being said, I'm not going to give too much away.**

* * *

><p>"The carriage is almost ready to depart, Master," said the bodyslave Rayanna, dipping her chin. Her blond hair fell in small locks in front of her face, her frail body seeming to always tremble like a shivering dog.<p>

"Thank you, Rayanna," the magister replied, his voice strong and level and bored. He flipped a page of his leather-bound book, an ancient text on variations of magic, such as the kind that Templars now use. "Fetch Dannis for me, Rayanna. I believe he's the last one I have to speak with."

"Yes, Master, I will get him at once," Rayanna said, turning and scampering off away from the study before anything else could be asked of her. The magister shut the book and placed it on one of the shelves, squeezed snugly between other ancient, dusty texts. He ran a hand through his dark hair and sighed, shoulders heaving.

Valinius went to his desk, wiping at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He fell into the chair and used his magic to freeze a cup of water.

Moments later, Dannis sauntered in, as light on his feet as a cat. The man was sturdily built with broad shoulders, a short black ponytail and dark eyes, a native to the area with tanned skin. A sword hung from his belt and an iron shield was strapped to his back, bearing the engraving of the Imperium.

"How do you fare today, Valinius?" He asked. Since Dannis was neither a slave nor a servant, he could address Valinius differently, calling him by name as opposed to 'Master.'

"I'm well, I suppose," Valinius answered, tilting the cup of ice to his face curiously. He glanced up at Dannis. "I never look forward to Senate meetings, but alas, what can you do to a squealing pig, other than feed it or kill it? I could care less for Seheron, in truth. That stifling island breeds no more than wild elves, qunari and rebel scum. I'd rather burn it down than send an army to capture it."

Dannis smirked, quietly opposed to the magister's views. Valinius was a power-hungry man, and young as he was, also arrogant. He knew that he had to suck up to the other, more experienced magisters, but he hated doing so, as any man with a large ego does. "I'm sure you'll do just fine," answered Dannis, planting his feet shoulder-width apart and clasping his hands behind him.

"As am I," drawled Valinius. "Say, how goes the child's training?"

Dannis gave a slight, reassuring smile. "He is trying his hardest, Valinius."

Valinius narrowed his dark gaze at his desk and tapped his long fingers on the wood. "Someday, that will not be enough, you know. I'm growing impatient." The magister let his hard gaze linger on Dannis, who shifted slightly on his feet but maintained a calm exterior.

"He's yet a child, Valinius. I ask that you remain patient. A child of his age and size should scarcely be able to lift an iron sword, much less fade into a wraith at will. He is doing surprisingly well for the obstacles he faces."

Valinius sighed and shook his head. "The boy's father could do it almost instantly upon getting the lyrium. What is different here?"

Dannis' brow was drawn together in thought. "My own belief is that the markings take a while to synchronize with each other. The father received them all within what, the course of a week? The boy has received them over the span of a year-"

"So as to not _kill him_ with the pain," grumbled Valinius, flicking at his mug of ice. "I'm having an awful time trying to locate his parents, speaking of those ingrates. I pay countless bands of slavers handsome coin and they report to me with their eyes downcast and their thumbs twiddling. Sometimes they don't return at all. How can two people – one of whom is easily recognizable to anyone paying attention – disappear through so many fingers so many times? Assassins aren't even as slippery as he is."

"Perhaps they are not coming for the child?"

Valinius shrugged, but his expression said it all – that this was a possibility he had not wanted to consider, and yet, it was entirely plausible. "They could both be dead, for all the good it does me. Damn Danarius for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Damn him for taking an interest in _my_ work. I've been researching lyrium warriors since I came into power. If he had more than half a mind, he'd have taken the wife with the elf. I'm sure he could've kept the elf under his roof amicably, using the woman as leverage. Reward good behavior and loyalty with time with his wife. Instead Danarius lost that chance, because he was too selfish to share something 'attractive.' I wish he hadn't erased the man's memory." Valinius ran his palms over his face in frustration. "I could've taken the wife long ago, and the elf would have come knocking on my door." Valinius rolled his eyes and clenched a fist. "Where is the child now?"

Dannis had a small hint of a frown, but he spoke levelly anyway, "He's in the yard, practicing on a dummy."

"What do you suggest I do with him, if he cannot reign in his markings?"

Dannis frowned at the prospect of it, but was equally gladdened to have his opinion considered. "He would still be a formidable fighter, given time and training. He's yet but nine years old."

"Yes, a fact you're constantly reminding me of," grumbled Valinius bitterly. He balled a fist again and then let it go. "We will see, I suppose. Nothing I can do now. I will be leaving shortly, Dannis. Make sure the child focuses, or I fear my patience will come to an end. I'm sick of waiting, of babying him. He needs to make some progress. I'm not spending all this time and money having you train a common warrior. I want an enhanced one. Like his father."

Valinius stared at Dannis, waiting for a sign that told him the man would try his best. Dannis nodded, frustrated but maintaining a neutral expression. "I will see if I can come up with some more unconventional... prodding. Encouragement, if you will."

Valinius grinned crookedly. "See that you do. You're dismissed."

Dannis nodded to the magister and turned on his heel, striding evenly out of the study and through the stucco archway separating the room from the rest of the mansion. As soon as he was out of sight of the magister, he found his own fists clenching and curses rolling silently off his lips. He stormed out of the mansion and into the courtyard, and slowed his steps when he saw Lysander.

The child, spawn of an elf and a human, was nearing five feet tall but was still thin and lanky like the other slave children. Lysander, however, was growing slightly more into a more mature body shape, as least as much as he could before hitting puberty. The magister had him training for hours every day, no matter the temperature, weather, or pain that the child was in.

Lysander was swinging a rusted iron shortsword into the practice dummy, whacking notches into the wood of the makeshift man. Dannis stopped and watched him carefully, while the boy still thought he was not being watched. It was when, he noticed, Lysander shined.

Lysander wore bandages around his palms and fingers to keep them from blistering from the pommel of the sword. Sweat beaded down the back of the boy's neck, following the thickly woven lines of lyrium that had been etched and carved into his very skin. The markings were black, dark as night like the child's slightly curled hair, and bled from their edges on several parts of the boy's body where they cracked and stretched away from the tender skin. Many of the markings were fresh, but some were over a year old and healed. Valinius had started the boy slow – giving him only a couple lines of lyrium every few weeks. But as the magister's patience withered, Lysander suffered more lyrium in higher doses. It was a miracle he had survived.

Dannis stood there, watching Lysander as he arced his sword through the air and into the dummy. The boy was indeed impressive for his age. The other slave children of the household – fatherless, skinny things – ran about playing and doing small chores while Lysander worked in all hours of the sun to be a formidable warrior.

"Lysander," Dannis said, "what did you just do?"

Lysander glanced up at Dannis with bright green eyes, almond-shaped and framed by thick, dark eyelashes. So much like his father's, Dannis remembered. "I overextended," he answered.

Dannis sighed and looked around him, making sure that the guards were relatively out of earshot. Not that it mattered much – he was not a slave and could speak somewhat freely. "Yes, very good. Come with me, Lysander. There are some things I need to tell you."

Lysander seemed suspicious for half a moment with his big green eyes narrowing in thought, but he quickly ran to Dannis. They began walking, side-by-side along the courtyard, away from the guards and prying ears. Lysander came up to Dannis' breast, but the boy was half the man's build and less than half the man's age.

"The magister will be leaving for some time, which alone is a stroke of luck for you," Dannis explained with his hands clasped behind his back. His dark eyes flitted around the courtyard, searching for prying ears and finding none. Lysander frowned seriously, strapping his sword into his belt that hung loose on his narrow body. "But I'm afraid that once he returns, you'll have to show him something of what you can do. Something small. Activate your fingertips, perhaps. Don't give it all away."

Lysander stared at his trainer in confusion. "I don't understand... why can't I show him now? Why have I had to keep this a secret?" Lysander shivered and then was unable to keep from trembling for several moments, recalling a disturbing memory birthed from one of Valinius' moments of impatience.

Pity crossed Dannis' stern face and he regarded the boy sadly. "I fear that once he sees what you can do, Lysander, he'll..." Dannis shook his head, shaking off a thought. "Never mind it, just do as I ask for now. Show no one."

"But I keep getting punished – it isn't fair – I don't even know why I have to keep it a secret! You have to at least tell me why I have to suffer longer than I need to." Lysander kept his voice quiet, but his frustration was showing through. Dannis nodded in understanding.

"You seem far beyond your years sometimes, has anyone ever told you?" Lysander just narrowed his jade eyes at the man and then stared ahead, in young fury. "Come with me, I'll explain more."

Dannis led the fuming boy away and into his own quarters – a room inside the mansion lacking a hearth but blessed with large windows and at the very least, a small bed. Dannis shut the door and motioned towards a wooden chair for the boy to sit, while he seated himself on the windowsill.

"I've never told you about your father."

Lysander's expression shifted instantly, his green eyes growing large in amazement, in wonder. "You know my father?"

Dannis shook his head. "No, I don't know him. Do you know what I've been hired to do here, with you?"

Lysander quirked an eyebrow. "Teach me how to be a lyrium warrior?"

"Yes," Dannis nodded and leaned against the frame of the window, the sunlight sweeping over his face. "And I was hired to do the same thing for your father about ten years ago."

Lysander, who had never known such a thing, let his mouth hang open for a moment in shock. "What? My father was a lyrium warrior?"

Dannis' dark eyes focused on the child, his expression soft and caring. "He _is_ a lyrium warrior, my boy. It took me two weeks to train your father the basics of how to use his markings. Of course, he was much older than you are, more skilled in battle than you are now. As soon as he learned to use them, his abilities were used for the advantage of others. He had to do awful, terrible things to people – and they were not things he wanted to do. He had no choice."

Lysander, still reeling from hearing that his father was a lyrium warrior, nearly jumped from his seat. "Where is he now? Why didn't he come for me?"

Dannis held a palm out to the boy. "Settle, I'll explain. My point is... as soon as the magister sees that you can do what your father could do, he'll use you for the same purpose. You are too young to have those dark things on your conscience. So when Valinius is back, you will show him the smallest amount of what you can do. We will put it off as long as we can. Understood?"

Calculating green eyes flitted around the room, considering, before the boy nodded in understanding, gripping the arms of the chair. "I understand."

Dannis swallowed and scratched at his beard. "As soon as the magister sees that you are skilled as a lyrium warrior, I will not be here to guide you any longer and you will be forced to be a man."

Silence passed between them. Lysander was anxious to hear more, and it took a moment for Dannis to compose his thoughts. "As for your father... I don't know where he is now. Neither does the magister. He has no memory of your mother, of the family he left. He doesn't know that you exist, Lysander. That's why he hasn't come for you. A magister took his memory from him."

Lysander stared at the bandages on his hands and the blood that stained them, trying to make sense of it all. "Will he do that to me, take my memories away?"

Dannis shut his eyes in the sunlight thought the heat from the star was oppressive and tormenting. "I don't know, my boy."

Moments passed, lingering long and slow before anyone spoke again. "What was he like, my father?"

Dannis opened his eyes, an eyebrow raised. "Your mother never told you of him?"

Lysander felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but over the course of the past two and a half years, he had learned how to keep them at bay. The mention of her still made his heart ache. "She did, but..."

Dannis smiled warmly at the boy. "Well... he offered up his own life to free your mother and two other women from slavery, though there was only a slim chance he'd still survive. When he got a letter from your mother saying that she was with child, he tried to escape the magister and then when he was caught, he put up an awful fight and killed a handful of the magister's guards. That was when the magister chose to take his memory away. Your father wanted to leave to take care of your mother, and as long as he'd remember her, he'd keep fighting to get out."

Lysander was in awe, and Dannis knew he'd have to prepare himself for the barrage of questions that the boy would have.

"In short," Dannis explained, "he was one of the greatest men I've ever met."

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><p>Fenris tugged his hood further up over his chin and checked to make sure that his other markings were not visible. He walked behind Astoria in measured steps, beside Varania, though her proximity to him made his skin crawl.<p>

Something was wrong in Minrathous. The city guard, it seemed, had tripled overnight. Guards stormed the streets and alleyways with their armor shining under the oppressive sun. There was a fire, somewhere off in the city. The stench of it filled their noses as monstrous black clouds billowed into the hazy sky, thick with debris and ash. The city was loud with shouting, wailing, screaming in the distance.

They had waited too long, Fenris realized to his horror. They should have left the city days ago. Dread filled him to the brim as they passed the gallows and saw more slaves being forced to say their last words before the axe came down over them. His stomach churn and his silver-armored fingers twitched towards his sword, but he wouldn't dare brandish it yet.

It felt like all eyes were on them, but that was nothing strange for Fenris. Even when he had been covered and on the run from Danarius, it felt like preying eyes watched him from every shadow. It was a fugitive's paranoia, and Fenris still had it eating at him in the back of his mind. But now it was slightly different. He had someone to protect now and couldn't go off running.

They neared the gates without issue, sticking to the edge of the streets and keeping their heads low. Then a sword flashed in front of them and a guard squared his shoulders, effectively blocking Astoria's path.

The three of them stopped abruptly and Fenris reached for his sword, his green eyes jumping around to take in his enemy. There, at the city gates, were a line of guards, but only three paying any attention to them. The guard in front of Astoria lowered his sword and peered at them questioningly through the slits in his iron helm.

"Who are ye' and what business do you have?" The guard demanded in a raspy voice, shaking his sword at Fenris and Varania. "Are these your slaves?"

Fenris gritted his teeth, and Astoria pulled her blue sari down away from her face. "I'm Lady Flynn from Ferelden," she said with all the grace of an actual highborn woman. Fenris' hand twitched and he glanced at his sister, who had her eyes cast low.

The guard's face was mostly covered, but Fenris could see the suspicion in his eyes. "And these...?"

"Oh, of course," Astoria said wistfully, her dormant Ferelden accent growing bolder, "this is my bodyguard and my handmaiden. I don't like traveling in large groups – too much idle chatter."

"And what of the babe?"

Astoria smiled at the man. "Why, this is my daughter, Solara. Isn't she beautiful? I couldn't leave her at my estate, I'd miss her so. I've taken her with me to visit my cousin in Asariel, and I wanted to see the gem of the North, if you will. Minrathous is quite staggering," Astoria grinned, "but not hospitable. May we pass, my good man?"

The dim-witted guard narrowed his eyes, but apparently struck by her, stepped to the side and bowed his head slightly. "Yes, my Lady. You may pass. Take care."

"You have my thanks, ser," she said before lifting up her scarf again and stepping through the line of guards. The iron portcullis did not come crashing down on them, surprisingly. Fenris realized he had forgotten to breathe as they put the city gates behind them and looked out at the dried fields of grass, browning under the late summer sun.

Varania let out an audible sigh of relief, and Astoria cast an annoyed glance at the gate. But her blue eyes lingered on Fenris, worried that he'd be angry, he realized.

"We had an agreement we'd use that story," Fenris said before she could ask if he was alright, his voice an angry whisper. "And it worked. I'm fine."

Astoria nodded but she could do little else so close to the city without being given away. She turned back and they followed the road at a brisk pace, sweating under the unforgiving sun. The road – a wide cobblestone path – stretched out languidly, curving through fields, farms, trading posts and hamlets. Roughly a mile to the east was the shore – and in the silence of the morning that came with putting distance between them and the city – they could seldom hear the waves against the beach.

A better part of the morning passed before they stumbled upon a handful of elves wandering the streets. One of them Astoria recognized as Avanna – the tavern server from in the city. Avanna led them away off the road and into the forest where the rest of the Minrathous rebellion awaited their stragglers.

Upon seeing the small army, Fenris' felt that perhaps there was a bit of hope for their mission. Camp had been set up and small campfires smoldered, their embers glowing dull and warm under the sun. Before him were roughly fifty soldiers, a dozen or so of which who were female – ex-slave's wives or just independent soldiers of their own, it appeared. Behind a group of men sparring, Fenris spotted three children – one was a young teenage girl, one a little boy of perhaps four, and another girl of about seven.

What was left of the morning passed in a flurry. Astoria and Fenris found Hollan, Eshan and Garsen. Garsen himself was grieving the loss of two slaves that had been killed whom he apparently knew from Minrathous. Fenris vaguely wondered if he knew the man who he had seen lose his head.

Varania was an outcast. Whenever Fenris glanced at her, he saw that no one spoke to her but she also spoke to no one. She sat in the shade under a tree, trying to keep Solara entertained. Both men and women would look at Varania and then roll their eyes in exasperation. But Fenris understood. She was bringing a Solara on a journey with them that no children had a right to be on. The crying of an infant such as Solara would prove inconvenient, he was sure. But for now, the infant had been quiet and fascinated with her surroundings.

"She looks familiar," Hollan pointed out. Fenris blinked, and realized he'd been staring at his sister and his niece. Astoria stood not five feet from him, listening to something Eshan said.

"She's my sister," Fenris said with a frown, narrowing his green eyes at Hollan.

"Can she fight with a babe on her hip?" He asked, a hint of dry amusement in his voice. Fenris crossed his arms.

"Astoria did for seven years," Fenris replied, annoyed. He noticed Astoria glance at him curiously, wondering what they were talking about, but Eshan gestured and caught her attention again while he talked. "She's a mage, anyway," he added.

"Oh?" Hollan cocked his head and stared at Varania, halfway across the camp. "Then we are lucky to have her on our side."

Fenris scoffed but said no more. Looking at her, alone and out-of-place, he almost pitied her again. What her reasons were for leaving, exactly, he wasn't sure. But she left her home behind and perhaps for now, he could forget her past transgressions and be slightly less critical of her.

And then later, once the stragglers from Minrathous arrived, the entire camp of roughly sixty-five or seventy-five people left and began the long trek south, away from the capitol city. They moved slowly through the forest, which wasn't thick like the jungles not far to the south, but would soon be so and then be impossible to pass through inside.

Rotating shifts of sentries would move along the road, looking for any magisters on their way to the great city. But no one wanted to intervene although one magister had indeed been spotted with his caravan of guards, servants and slaves. If they were to attack the road so early, anyone else traveling the road would see that something had gone amiss and possible warn the magisters in Minrathous, causing a retaliation for the rebellion. No one wanted to make a move until the magisters in Minrathous, in the Senate, were destroyed.

When Astoria learned this she was distraught, but there was nothing she could do to change it. She walked beside Fenris, chewing on her lip and brooding, as he would call it. If they had missed Valinius on the road, they had missed their chance to interrogate him.

That night, Eshan spared them two extra tents – really cloths that had to be maneuvered and propped up for privacy. Still, it was better than nothing. Fenris and Astoria set up their own, and then Varania's. Soon after that, Varania went to bed in her tent with Solara and left Astoria and Fenris to their own small, smoldering fire.

"We weren't able to talk about last night, for you anyhow," Fenris noted, his voice quiet. His gaze slanted sidelong to look at Astoria. The firelight danced on her features. A soft and - for once – cool breeze flitted through the camp from the ocean and tendrils of Astoria's hair swayed in it.

"I know. But does it bother you? What we did?" It seemed to him almost like she was holding her breath anxiously. Almost like the slave he saw before the axe fell in the city.

"No," Fenris replied, his voice just audible over the murmur of camp. "It was greater than I ever could have imagined, I said that before. However, the memory... the day of the competition and the time afterwards... I... I was happy that you three were freed. Even afterwards, as I left... I felt like I'd do it again."

Silence passed between them but the fire sputtered and a hushed, anxious murmur could be heard from across the camp.

"I can't believe that death used to horrify me so," he said, looking at his hands as if for help. "I killed six men – elves, slaves, to free you. I've killed many times that in this past year. Not slaves, of course, but free men. And now, I can't remember half of their faces – only a few. But... back to my first point... how do you feel about last night?"

Astoria smiled and chuckled into her glass of water. "It was the best birthday I've had in... ever."

Fenris shook his head, but couldn't keep the smile from his face. "You flatter me."

"And of Varania? How did that go this morning?" Astoria asked, all the caring in the world in her voice. Fenris shrugged.

"What choice do I have?" Fenris ran a hand through his snowy hair and stared solemnly at the fire. "If it weren't for my markings... she'd never have suffered, nor would you have. It is a curse to know me, to share my blood, to bear my children." He glanced at her and shook his head again. Had he given away too much? Astoria still didn't know that Lysander was taken away in order to bear the markings.

"No, Fenris, it is an honor to do such things. To share your blood and bear your children. No one has ever thought otherwise."

Her faith and conviction in him shamed him, not for the first time. Fenris narrowed his gaze at the fire and set his jaw stubbornly.

"As long as I'm alive, you will both always be hunted."

Astoria looked at her glass for a moment and then leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. Startled, Fenris cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Then let them come, I'm not afraid."


	51. The Middle of the Night

**Thank you so much to Kira Tamarion, Fallon-Idalia, Thot84, and Pint-Sized She-Bear for your reviews! You're all literally the best - I wouldn't have made it this far without your reviews!**

**Anyway - I'm not too happy with the latter half of the last chapter (it was very transitional, a lot of stuff that I had to say), but now I feel like we're back on track. This chapter borders on smut, and I don't know how grimy I can get when it comes down to this kind of stuff - haha, but not every scene will be as sensual and soft as this one.**

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><p>I don't know what time it is when someone comes into my tent, and I'm hardly aware of it at all, in fact. Fenris was asked to help keep watch, and in the moment I think he's still outside, keeping guard on the fringes of the camp.<p>

There's rustling beside me. Movement, and then a touch. A palm is sliding up the back of my thigh. In my half-slumber, I wonder if this should worry me.

My hair slides across my face and over onto my shoulder. The hand on my thigh squeezes but it's gentle, and I feel lips on my shoulder.

I manage, somehow, to open my eyes. There is no light in the tent, and I can't see who it is. My heart starts to pound, like I've woken up from a nightmare.

A knee slides in between my own, and that's when I panic. I try to roll over, but a hand closes around one of my wrists, pinning it to the ground, and I feel an imposing weight against my back. Whoever he is, he isn't hurting me, but he's there.

"It's only me," he says quietly, his mouth brushing my ear. I let out an audible breath of relief. Fenris.

_Fenris?_

What is he _doing_? He lets go of my wrist and presses a kiss to my neck. Above me, he leans on one elbow and runs his other hand along my shoulder and down what's exposed of my back, which honestly isn't much.

I try to relax, but I'm confused. "Fenris?" I ask.

"Mmm?"

I can smell the wine on him. He moves his weight away and lets me roll onto my back. "Are you...?"

One deft hand trails down the center of my front. At my hips he runs his knuckles outwards over my skin and curls his fingers around my pelvis, resting them there.

"It needed to wake you. It will be your turn for watch soon."

Ah, there it is. I knew it was too good to be true. But his touch... it's so... sensual. It's hard for my to believe that Fenris has approached me in such a way.

I can now barely make out his outline in the darkness. I see that he's taken his armor off. And perhaps even his tunic, though I can't be sure. I reach out for his shoulder, and feel no fabric there.

"How much time do I have?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and level and to not have my arousal obvious to him.

I see him shift. He kisses my forehead gently, carefully and then pulls away. "Enough... that is, if you would have me."

I don't answer in any other way other than snaking my hands around the back of his neck and pulling him on top of me. Of course I would have him. My heart leaps and bounds as he asks anyway. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, like a growl of approval, as he claims my mouth with his and plants his elbows on either side of me. I feel his weight lower onto me, one knee again nudging apart my legs, as he kisses me. He pulls away my tunic and pushes my breastband down to my waist.

He shifts on his elbows and touches me as if I am something rare and sacred. With a grace I've never known him to be capable of, he runs his fingers, his knuckles, across my skin. Down the slope of my waist, the curve of my hip, the swell of my breasts. His breath comes in ragged as I run my hands down his chest, to the hem of his leggings.

With an urgency, I pick my head up and kiss from his shoulder to neck. He goes still everywhere except for one of his hands, roaming ever so silently up my arm, down my ribs, across my stomach. He traces whorls on my hip and I hear him groan ever so softly as I suck on that spot, just below his ear, where one of his lines of lyrium end.

Then he moves away and his teeth drag across my chest while his hand dips under my smalls and pulls them down past my knees. I hardly have time to pull one leg free of them before his body is between my legs and he bites softly at the side of my breast. The bruises on my thighs ache for a moment as his hips press against them, but it is an easy thing to ignore in the beautiful storm of _us._

I am desperate for him, and I think this is something he understands fully. A small – no, a large part of me hopes that he is just as desperate for me. He confirms my hope by shoving his trousers down just enough, rushing too much to take them off or even get them past his knees, as if he's racing with himself to get inside me.

I arch against him, silently begging for him, for more of him, _all _of him. My hands clutch at his shoulders and splay out on his back. I feel his muscles, taut and strong, flexing as he moves with focus and grace.

We're in the middle of camp, surrounded by others – by Fenris' sister included. There must be several people awake, moving about. But none of these things matter as Fenris pushes himself inside me. For a moment I think I see stars as a strangled sound escape both of our throats. Fenris' head drops against my collarbone and he waits, his breath whooshing out of him. He waits for my legs to relax around him, for me to start breathing.

There is nothing like this feeling. Though it borders on the edge of pain, I grab at his shoulders and struggle not to moan as he starts to move. I feel his fists clench on either side of my head. His teeth drag across my collarbone and bite down on my throat, but I doubt it's enough to leave any marks behind. After the memories he has, I don't think Fenris would ever intend to mark me.

The ground presses uncomfortably into my back, so I arch again and try not to dig my nails into his skin. Fenris shifts his weight onto one elbow and his other hand moves to my hip. His fingers curl on my skin and hold me there as he thrusts. To keep me arched, he moves his other arm under my spine. The angle lets him in just a bit further, but it's enough to make me cry out.

"Shhh," he whispers, pausing and smiling against my sternum. I run my fingers up his neck and feel a thin sheen of sweat gathering at the nape of it. His free hand, the one on my hip, glides up my thigh and pins it to his hip.

He moves again and I'm sure I've never felt something so sweet and amazing in all my life. He bites down gently on the side of my breast again, and I can't stifle the moan I have this time.

Fenris chuckles and he pauses to pull something up onto my mouth. He doesn't tie it or force it anywhere, just offers it to me if I need something to groan into. His fingers tap against it and I realize that it's the sari he got me. The cashmere is soft and warm, and the silver embroidery brushes against my cheek. Fenris starts to move again and suddenly I'm grateful for it.

His fingers dig into my thigh, and he presses soft but quick, frantic kisses across my chest. I am overwhelmed by it all, tears in my eyes from both happiness and pleasure, and it isn't long before we both come undone together – two chests heaving, two hearts pounding. My moans are lost in the sari I clamp between my teeth, and Fenris bites out a single "_mellita_," against my neck, and I wonder if it's just a force of habit from his memories or a conscious decision to call me that.

Fenris' body goes boneless for several minutes on top of mine. He interlocks the fingers of our hands together and holds them on the ground. He kisses my collarbone before rolling away and cupping my face, dragging us close together again.

I curl into his chest and though it's still hot out, I find comfort in the warmth of him, the up and down of his chest as his breathing levels out again. He tucks hair behind my ear and wraps his arms tight around my shoulders.

I'm nearly crying, that's how good it feels. After ten years of going without him, the love of my life, it's almost too much to bear. He actually _wants _me, though I can't imagine that he loves me, not like he used to.

I pull away from him after a few minutes and start getting dressed for my watch. He groans in protest, but I think he's too tired to do much else. I strap up my daggers to my belt and lean down and kiss him.

I can feel his smile against my lips as his arms gently drag me down to sit with him for another moment. By the time I leave, he's asleep.

I walk to the edge of camp in my own bliss for my guard duty. But the dark forest around me is silent and calm, which leaves me to bask in my own joy and thoughts. I head back to our tent two hours later, as dawn begins to break and twilight hangs in the camp, setting outlines and silhouettes and even some colors to my vision. I duck into the tent to lay down with Fenris until the sun rises, and I notice something different. He's cut off a strip of my blue sari and tied it around his wrist.

Though I don't know what it means, I grin and lay down beside him. I can hear him go still, awake, before he scoots closer and brushes hair out of my face, resting his forehead against my temple, his lips against my collarbone.


	52. The Wolves Move Silently

**Thank you so much to Fallon Idalia, Kira Tamarion, Pint-sized She-bear, MikoAbigail, , Dreister Dieb for all your reviews, time and enthusiasm! You guys are the gasoline that keeps this engine going, and I hope you enjoy the chapters to come!**

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><p><em> "Oi, boy!" Shouted the voice of a man, impatient and irritated. Fenris opened his eyes and, upon realizing where he was, scrambled quickly to his feet. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. The door swung open and a guard threw a scroll in and onto the floor. Fenris scooped it off the ground and opened it, stepping into the hallway while the guard continued.<em>

_ He unrolled the vellum and only saw strange markings all over it. "Wait!" He said, jumping after the guard._

_ The man spun on his heel and looked at Fenris disapprovingly. "What?"_

_ "Can you... can you read this, please? To me?"_

_ The guard laughed at him, and Fenris looked down at his feet in shame. But nonetheless, the guard ripped the letter from the elf's hands and unrolled it curiously._

_ Fenris stood still as stone, waiting. Up and down his arms were fresh markings, lyrium that had been poured into his skin and left to solidify. At their edges they cracked, and thanks to his sudden awakening, their scabs ripping open as blood seeped from the open wounds. His black hair felt dried and dead, and for days it had been coming out in clumps. He was in more pain than he ever could have imagined, but for short spurts of time he could focus and ignore it all. Now was one of those times._

_ The guard cleared his throat, as much of a slave as Fenris was, just one that was paid every so often when Danarius felt like giving up the coin. "Dear Leto," the guard began, rolling his eyes. "I don't know if this letter will reach you. I hope that it finds you well. I hope the best for you, as you know. I miss you, we all do. Your absence is a thing living that eats away at us all. Your mother is taking it hard, but your sister and I are managing her."_

_ The guard stopped and sighed, irritated. But Fenris asked him to please continue, and he did. "Last week Varania told me that I'm with child. She was trying to heal me, because I've been sick, but she said that she could feel the child's energy. Do not worry, my love, the child will be taken care of. You've nothing to worry about. Varania may be able to find work as will I, pregnant or no._

_ "I miss you more than my heart can bear, sometimes. But you've taught me to be strong, and I still remember how to survive on the outside. We'll be fine. I pray to the Maker that you are safe and well and happy. Your sister and mother send all their love, as do I. I love you, my dear. Love, Astoria."_

_ The guard rolled up the letter and grinned, maliciously. Fenris swayed on his feet._

_ "The wife's with child?" Prodded the guard, shoving the letter back into Fenris' hands. The man laughed and quirked an eyebrow. "Luckily for you, you're here, she can't cuckold you into caring for a bastard."_

_ Fenris went rigid, though his new markings ached and throbbed up his arms, down his back and along his thighs. Tomorrow he'd be getting more on his chest, calves and neck. Fenris scowled at the man, clenching his fists and crumpling up the vellum._

_ "What are you implying?" He snarled._

_ The guard chuckled, as if this were extremely amusing to him. "Come now, why would a woman keep her legs shut in wait for an elven slave? I bet the bitch made you think she loved you just enough for you to set her free." The man guffawed upon seeing Fenris' dumbstruck expression and slapped his stomach in his laughter._

_ "Ah, you've been played for a fool, my friend -"_

_ Fenris roared in pain as he ignited his markings, the hallway illuminating in an unearthly blue glow and leapt forward, plunging his fist into the man's chest and dragging it out, blood covering his hand. The guard choked on his own breath as Fenris took him by the neck and slammed him against the stone wall, bouncing his head off the stone again and again._

_ The man's body slumped to the floor before Fenris could comprehend what he had done. The man was speaking out of line, he knew that. Astoria had never been with another man, he was not worried about that. But rather he couldn't bear to hear her be disrespected so._

_ Now the rest of the guards would be coming for him soon, as soon as they saw the man's body in a heap on the floor. Fenris staggered away, deciding that he had to try to run. Danarius would kill him, he was sure of it. But not if he could get out first._

_ Fenris crept along the walls, as quietly as he could manage. Not three minutes later, he heard shouting – men running in their armor. Pressed against a shadow, Fenris listened and waited, and then realized they were coming for him, in the right direction._

_ He bounded off the wall and limped as fast as his wounds would allow. As he neared the entrance to the estate, he saw two guards chatting to each other, looking bored. When they saw him running at them, they readied their swords and started barking orders – to who, he wasn't sure. Fenris ducked and bowled into the guard to the right, letting his lyrium flare to life. He spun and hooked his arm around the guard's throat, using him as a shield as he backed up towards the door._

_ The other guard, with a look of pure dismay, kept shouting. And then Fenris realized something – there were orders not to kill him. The man he held hostage could have done it, for he still wielded a sword. Leto struggled to open the door behind him, and just as it creaked, he snapped the guard's neck and turned, running._

_ Immediately, it seemed, two men were upon him – guards posted on the outside of the door. How long could Fenris run? Where would he even go? How would he know where to find Astoria?_

_ Someone was grabbing him, and Fenris crashed to the ground. He shouted in pain and swung frantically at the man that had tackled him. His lyrium was his only weapon, and he used it to crush the man's heart within his chest._

_ That was number ten. In his lifetime, Fenris had now killed ten people. He shivered and clawed his way to his feet._

_ Searing, ripping pain shot through him as a guard's blade sliced into his thigh. Fenris staggered and turned, feeling weary and weak. He bled all over, but he still managed to claw at the guard's face and crush his windpipe by punching him in the throat._

_ The man crumpled to the ground, clutching at himself, and Fenris grabbed his sword, though he knew in his state he wouldn't be able to do much with it. At least seven guards were sprinting towards him from different directions._

_ There was a hissing in the air then, suddenly Fenris fell to his knees, writhing in pain. Electricity jumped along his limbs and he was sure his heart stopped for a moment. And then he was getting shoved in the dirt, arms bound behind him, and getting yanked to his feet. Fenris spat out dirt and hung his head, defeated._

_ "What is the meaning of this?!" Danarius roared, and the sound of it made Fenris wince. He hadn't heard the magister shout at him, but by the sound of it now, he was livid. Fenris knew he'd rue this day, if he survived it._

_ "Speak, slave, or I'll have your tongue!" The back of Danarius' hand crashed into Fenris' face and snapped his head to the side. Fenris grimaced and kept his eyes low._

_ "I'm sorry, Master!"_

_ Danarius wiped the back of his hand on his robes furiously. "What would possess you to attack my guards, you little shit?!"_

_ "I discovered my wife is with child, Master – one of the guards called her a whore, and I reacted poorly. Frightened, I ran."_

_ Danarius narrowed his eyes at the elf before him. "You are lucky that you were able to withstand these," he said, jabbing a finger painfully at one of his markings, making him wince in pain, "or I'd have your head on a spike and send it to your precious wife, rotting with maggots and flies."_

_ Fenris groaned as another blow fell across his face. "Is this going to be a problem, Fenris? This wife of yours? Do I need to find and kill her, or can you act like a man and accept your duty? You came to me willingly – and I have you now. You chose to come here!"_

_ The thought of it made his heart twist painfully in his chest, aching. Danarius wouldn't do such a thing, would he? "This will not be a problem, Master."_

_ Danarius frowned and shook his head, turning. "I don't believe you. Remember her now, Fenris, because after today, she will be unfamiliar to you, you ungrateful shit."_

_ What did that mean? Fenris felt a panic rushing through him, rattling his bones. "What?" He sputtered, not meaning to, but he couldn't keep his words in. "No, no, no, no, don't-"_

_ A whip cracked, and Fenris yelped as the skin on his shoulder was split open. Blood streamed down his body all over._

_ Danarius looped the whip in his hands and curled his lip at the sight before him. His sneer was a thing from the darkest depths of the Fade. "Bring him to my lab. He won't know his name by the time I'm finished."_

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><p>There were no drums, no trumpets blaring to signify the beginning of battle. As an early night began to fall upon the jungle to the south of Minrathous, the rebellion stirred and stretched and tried to calm their nerves. A sentry had run back to camp not ten minutes ago, sprinting to Hollan and warning him of a nearby magister on the road.<p>

Hollan and Garsen had split up to gather a group of soldiers to attack the magister's caravan. Garsen made a beeline for Fenris, who stood tightening the blue scrap of the sari around his wrist. Beside him was Astoria with her hands on her hips, chewing her bottom lip. On the other side of her stood Varania with Solara sleeping against her chest. She looked frightened half-to-death, which is indeed how she had been since they left Minrathous four days ago.

Fenris wiped away the layer of drizzle that had gathered on his forehead. It was uncharacteristically cold that day, and it had rained three times. With or without the rain, it was a welcomed respite from the heat. Still, Fenris was covered in mud up to his knees and feeling downright sour. A heavy fog had slowed them substantially, along with the thickening jungle.

How far ahead was Hunter, Fenris wondered. Astoria's brother had left Minrathous the night before they had, going ahead to secure some passage home, and he'd be leaving with or without his sister.

"Astoria, Fenris, we'll need your help," Garsen's voice startled Fenris out of his thoughts. It was a wonder they had drifted at all, considering what was happening around him.

Astoria nodded and flexed her fingers on the hilts of her daggers. She turned, and so did Garsen before he paused and squinted at Varania.

"You too," he told her with authority. Varania's eyes went wide as she wrapped her frail arms around her sleeping infant.

"Me?"

Garsen nodded, lacking sympathy. "You're a mage, aren't you?"

"Yes, but -"

Garsen narrowed his eyes critically, and Fenris watched the exchange with intensity. Would Varania help them and step out of her comfort zone?

"Who will watch her?" Varania stroked Solara's head.

"Give her to Avanna, she had a baby of her own once. Avanna!" The tavern server from Minrathous scurried over like a mouse, her eyes flitting around the scene before her. Her dress was gathered in her hands to keep the bottom of it from getting wet in the mud, but even still the fabric was stained and heavy.

"What is it?" Avanna asked.

"Take the infant until we're back."

Avanna and Varania stared at each other for a moment, Avanna more curious than anything, until Varania handed her her child and frowned, clutching her staff to her.

"But if I..." Varania could not finish the sentence.

"You won't," Astoria assured her, "we'll keep you safe. Just fire from behind someone."

Varania's inward struggle was evident, even after they left the camp with a group of twenty other soldiers to ambush the caravan. Fenris ignored it, which was easy because his thoughts were focused on Astoria.

Nightly they would join together, to Fenris' pleasure. It left him tired, but he wouldn't complain. He found himself busy with her, between their night watch shifts and trying to sleep, but with every day a small sense of dread swelled up in him. When they found Lysander, if they found Lysander, would she be so heartbroken that she wouldn't find it in herself to love him or care for him anymore? In the wake of the disaster that befell her child, would she be able to find humanly pleasure with him?

These were thoughts that had kept Fenris busy for days. But as they descended through the jungle, a small horde of soldiers thirsty for blood moving as silently as they could manage, Fenris found his thoughts focused on the present. His breathing came and went noiselessly. Astoria walked beside him, her fingers clenched tightly around the hilts of her daggers. Her blue sari was wet and hung damp over her face. Varania walked behind them, and Fenris could hear her breathing nervously, her footsteps falling just a bit too erratically, anxiously, if that could be a way to describe it.

The thick fog left much to the imagination, Fenris realized. He saw several lesser warriors and soldiers twitching and turning their gaze to unseen things in the distance. They were men living in fear, as if an axe would drop on their heads at any moment. But Fenris knew the feeling, and he was not one to condemn slaves, of all things.

The jungle gave away to a field, the grass dark and thick in the early evening. Astoria abandoned her daggers at her hips and drew out her bow, cocking an arrow on it as they crossed the field.

The sound of hooves clapping against a dirt road littered with stones reached Fenris' ears, and the ears of everyone else traveling with him. He could hear the shuffling of iron armor, the rattling of steel swords in their metal-ringed sheaths, of mail rustling underneath plated chest-pieces and pauldrons.

A handful of soldiers including Eshan, went sideways as if to attack the magister's caravan from the other side. Silence ensued among the rebellion and Fenris held his palms against his thighs, waiting to reach for his sword, fearing the sound the armor on his gauntlets would make, or the sound of the blade sliding out of the sheath.

Hollan crossed in front of Fenris towards Varania and whispered something in her ear, before walking to his original spot. Fenris glanced at his sister.

Varania's expression struggled between fear and focus. Fenris had seen it before. It was the expression Hawke had had before dueling the Arishok. It was the expression men had before making a leap, a leap that could kill them. Her copper hair clung to her brow, her eyebrows knitting together in concentration, her mossy gaze planted on the shadow of an outline, a ghostly promise of a caravan – the magister and his guards, his slaves and servants, and horses.

In her right hand, she twisted her staff, digging it into the soft terrain as she lifted her other hand, trembling, to her temple and brushed away her hair. Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris saw Hollan gesture – the signal to attack.

There was a moment that seemed to slow and stretch. Varania's almond-shaped eyes narrowed and she sucked in a breath, and in another second she appeared a sorceress.

If Fenris was powerful as a warrior, the same could be said for his sister in the skill of magic. Directly in front of her, as she held out a hand with her palm skyward, a fireball appeared out of nothing it seemed. Fenris vaguely wished that the caravan would not be able to see it, but that would be a futile hope.

The cackling ball of flames expanded, as if hungry, devouring the empty space around it. The ball of fire grew to the size of Solara, a hot hissing sound emanating from its center. Varania's red hair whirled from her face as if wind pushed at her, and she drew her arm back. The ball of flames arched through the air, sailing like a deadly spear, and crashed into the mass of shadow in front of them.

On impact there was an explosion and flames spurted forth from the center of the fireball, as if all the power of the element had been concentrated and unleashed like dynamite.

And then time seemed to find its legs. Men – guards, slaves, servants all began shouting and screaming in a hasty attempt to gain their bearings as the side of a double-decked wooden carriage began to catch fire. The horses screamed in fear, the men of the rebellion rang out in their battle cries, and Fenris was drawing his sword and running at the explosions as a man wrapped in his black cloak, his blade slicked with drizzle. Fire rained all around him.


	53. On the Warpath

**Thank you so much to Fallon Idalia, Wicked Lullaby, Fenris's Lover, Pint-sized She-bear, MikoAbigail, Kira Tamarion, Dreister Dieb for all your reviews, time and enthusiasm! Almost all of you have told me about your hopes for this story big and small - and I'm definitely not planning on leaving anything without any closure, especially if I've gotten you attached to someone.**

**Fenris's Lover - I use Google translate and basically just use Latin for my version of Arcanum, it's about as close as I'm gonna' get I believe. =)**

**Also to everyone - I'm going camping for a few days with no electricity/water and then it's the hubby's boyfriend so I won't be able to write for a little while. However, I think by the time I get back I'll be so excited to get writing it'll only take another couple of days. **

**Thank you so much to everyone for reading my little story so far - it's been a long journey so far, and I understand the slow buildup can be frustrating (but I personally think it's worth it in the end). I will continue and I hope you guys continue to enjoy my story.**

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><p>Maroon.<p>

When regular men saw red, as the saying goes, Fenris saw maroon. Nothing quite ignited his anger like maroon. It was the color he saw in his nightmares, and in his dreams of revenge. It was the color that had chased him for years, the color that men had worn to punish him. It was all he saw as he raced over the soft ground, splashing into a puddle of mud in the road, shoulder to shoulder with Hollan, vaguely aware of Astoria behind him.

Fenris saw maroon and knew that he would have no trouble differentiating between his enemy and ally. The first guard he encountered, a stout man with long whiskers, hadn't even seen him coming for him. Maroon was the clothing he wore, seen through the openings in his armor, the color of the greaves he wore, the sash around his waist.

Fenris stained the man's maroon with red, slicing him fatally in the stomach before he had a chance to even draw his blade. Vaguely, Fenris thought that he could enjoy this, could make a life out of hunting slavers had he not a wife and child.

Fenris wrenched his sword out of the man's limp body on the ground. He wouldn't dare use his markings in this fog – it'd make him too much of a target. So Fenris stepped back and surveyed the scene around him.

Their ambush was working. Hollan had just slit a guard's throat, and was parrying with another. Astoria swung her bow over her head and into the unarmored skull of a guard, making him stumble and fall into the mud. A guard somehow slipped behind her and threw an arm around her throat, putting her in a sleeper hold.

Before he could do anything for her, a guard charged him, a dual-wielder in a full suit of armor. The man was fast, with two lighter blades, but Fenris prided himself on being fast as well. But the man was quite a match and after several parries, it took the help of Hollan's blade to bring the man down.

Fenris shifted his gaze to Astoria, panicked. She kicked out frantically at the man behind her. He lifted her up off the ground, her neck in his elbow, and Fenris felt his stomach plummet. In a moment he was bounding towards her. The man pivoted and threw Astoria to the ground. Fenris lit up his markings in his approach, snarling like a mad wolf. The man, the guard, had been too startled to even fight against Fenris.

Fenris threw the man's heart to the ground, disgusted by it. It had not felt good enough to rip out his beating heart where he stood. Not that man.

Fenris knelt in the mud beside Astoria, dropping his sword to the ground beside him. He had hoped Hollan, in the midst of it all, would fend off any enemies until he could get his wife to her feet. Fenris hadn't even been able to throw his arms around her shoulders, too shocked and appalled at her bruised throat, the way she coughed and choked, to see or hear the men closing in upon him.

It had only taken a few seconds for him to be overwhelmed. His markings had done it. Fenris cursed them as he had before. With them he was a beacon in the fog, a lighthouse in the storm, a fire on a cold night. All the guards of the magister had seen him use them.

One guard stepped around behind Astoria and made a fist in her hair, on top of her scalp. Fenris felt a dizzying blow to his shoulder just as he was to leap to her defense. He shouted out in pain and crumpled from the impact of the hammer. Then he felt arms closing tight around his own arms, hauling him towards his feet.

Fenris screamed as the guard with Astoria dragged her away by the hair. He felt hopeless as she screamed and cried, flailing frantically, clawing at his hands in her hair.

"Your daggers!" Fenris managed to scream to her in the chaos of it all. He had never heard horses scream so much as the ones were now. A sizzling ball of flame nearly collided with the guard beside him as it smashed into the wagon.

Astoria, even in the clamor, managed to understand what Fenris had screamed. He writhed against the men who dragged him backwards, kicking and flailing before having the sense to use his markings. Like a lantern, he ignited his markings, a cool blue flair in the dense fog.

As he plunged both of his fists into the men's chests that carried him away, he saw Astoria rip a dagger from her belt and slash at the hand in her hair. Fenris felt the men beside him collapse to the ground, and just as he was about to run to her, a flaming ball of fire whirled past his cheek and landed squarely in the man's chest.

Fenris looked over his shoulder and saw Varania in the process of making another fireball, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed, but her body still like a statue made of stone. He turned back and found the man on his rear in the mud, Astoria on her knees, scrabbling to her feet.

Fenris ran before the man could get up before her, and snapped his neck. Where had his sword gone? Fenris glanced around and saw it lying in the mud about ten feet away. He spun on his heels and scooped up Astoria by the shoulders before retrieving it.

Another fireball whizzed by, this time not so close as it singed the hair on a guard clad in maroon and sent him sprawling on impact. Hollan, who had been fighting with him at the time, stuck the end of his sword into the man's neck and wrenched it out, splattering blood on himself.

"Where's the magister?" Fenris heard Astoria ask beside him. He shook his head and tried to catch his breath. He never lost his head in battle – the fact that he had nearly gotten carried off when he could have used his markings unnerved him.

There were at least ten guards dead – but how man more remained was unseen. Fenris saw a couple rebellion soldiers, weaker men than he or Hollan, laying lifelessly in the mud. The double-decker cart was starting to burn, and the man driving the carriage was bent over in his seat sobbing as the horses screamed in fear at the smell of blood.

Fenris jumped up to where the driver sat and pulled him down by his collar. The man fell into the mud, screaming and begging for his life though Fenris didn't want such a thing.

"Where's the magister? Is he in the cart?" Fenris demanded, his voice ice and fire wrapped in one. All around him he could hear metal upon metal, steel ringing out in the road. Such deadly sounds, but sounds he was unfortunately quite familiar with.

"Y-y-yes!" the man cried. "P-p-lease don't hurt me!"

"What is the magister's name?"

"Flavius – Magister Flavius!"

Fenris shoved the man in the center of his chest with his foot and the man fell back into the puddle, sputtering. Flavius. He knew Flavius from Danarius' parties. He found Astoria's hand and pulled her under the reins, behind the horses but out of reach of their kicking hooves. They came around the side of the carriage and saw the magister, fumbling his way out of the cart.

The hem of his robes were on fire, but he stomped on them and they were extinguished. He coughed, choking on the smoke as the wagon was ablaze, and leaned heavily on his staff as he gained his bearings. He was bald, middle-aged with a round belly from living lavishly.

Fenris halted in his tracks. Would he be able to reach the magister before the man saw he was there and used his magic? It was unlikely. Fenris clumsily aided Astoria to stand behind him as he readied his blade and bent his knees.

The magister noticed a member of the rebellion about ten feet from him, swinging a rusted iron mace in front of him, trying to hit one of the Imperial guards. The magister coughed but then narrowed his eyes at the rebel.

Then suddenly there was electricity cackling, deadly and loud as lightning, channeled from the magister to the poor rebel. The rebel, a man whose name Fenris had forgotten, collapsed to the ground without so much as a scream.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The magister roared, storming to the guard. The magister's staff was something of another realm, it seemed. It was carved from a bone-white wood, or perhaps it was bone, Fenris could not tell. Rubies were set in crevices and holes that had been gauged out in the material. Small ridges ran along the crafted thing, designs that had been carved into it of whorls and waves.

Fenris dug his feet in the mud and ran at the magister, overwhelmed with hate and rage. Flavius. The name had only rung vague bells when he first heard it, but he remembered the man better when he saw the staff. Flavius was a snake, a powerful and arrogant man, much like Danarius.

Fool sentry! If he had any idea the power this man possessed, he would not have sent twenty rebels after him.

When Fenris was within about seven feet of the magister, the man looked over his shoulder and they locked eyes.

Not even the blink of an eye passed, and a wall of fire was erected between them. Fenris scrambled backwards so not to get burned, but the heat was blasting and sizzling.

Fenris swore out loud, panic and fear coursing through him as he turned his back on the magister and skittered away from the fire. Astoria reached for him, and Fenris realized she had just killed a man, whose body slumped to the ground beside her, blood pouring from his neck.

How many more guards could there be? He wondered, and would they win? It seemed doubtful, with the way things had gone.

Fenris collided with Astoria but threw an arm around her. He couldn't convey in words how quickly they needed to get away from the magister. He hadn't killed Fenris – that was saying something. The man had recognized him despite the cloak Fenris wore.

Flavius. The snake with a thousand ears – the man with little birds whispering secrets. Flavius knew what happened in Tevinter, things that other magisters tried to keep private. He was a dangerous man to those in power, though he counted himself among them.

A bolt of lightning seemed to narrowly miss him, snapping into one of the draft horses. The animal screamed and reared, though its fastenings and reins kept it restrained. Fenris heard another crack and then immediately after, an explosion. Fire rained down all around – like smoldering lanterns in the thick wet fog.

Fenris and Astoria tripped in the mud and went sprawling on the ground as they fled the magister. He cursed and rubbed the mud from his eyes, checking that Astoria was alright. Astoria was on her feet in an instant, helping him to his own as well.

"I'm going to climb on the cart and shoot him," she explained before kissing his cheek and sprinting off, climbing onto the driver's seat and then vaulting up and onto the roof of the cart. Fenris felt his heart pounding, but by the time he told her "no," she had scaled most of the thing. The wooden cart was burning – one of its sides cracking with fire though the wood had been moist from the rains and fog.

Still, would it hold out long enough for Astoria to kill Flavius?

Fenris looked around him and saw that three guards had surrendered – on their knees in the mud as one of the rebels held them at sword point. Eshan was laying in the mud, though Fenris couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. Varania was running closer, her green eyes scanning the road, the battlefield. They fell upon him and she sprinted towards him. The fear in her expression had him worried for a moment, and as he turned to look up at Astoria, he heard a deafening crack and the entire area was bathed in a brilliant pale purple light.

Lightning sailed over the cart, into the sky. He saw Astoria vault herself over the side of the cart, landing hard with a scream and collapsing to the ground. She hadn't been hit with the electricity, but the fall had hurt her. Her bow skittered across the dirt road, the arrows slipping out of her quiver. Fenris scrambled towards her to pull her away from the fire and he narrowly missed a small bolt of energy.

He paused and looked at the magister, who was coming around the cart. Flavius' eyes met Fenris', and the magister gave him the smallest smile, a crooked and menacing one. Fenris felt his heart stop for a brief moment, fearing what was to come.

The feeling that hit him next, he was no stranger to. His vision flashed white and Fenris stumbled, blinded. His limbs felt fatigued, his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to sleep. Awful visions plagued his mind, and shutting his eyes did not get rid of them. He saw shades, revenants, shrieks all coming for him. He saw those he knew – Hawke, Varric, Isabela, Anders, Merril, Varania and then, of course, Astoria being ripped apart as if rotted food for wolves.

Fenris fell to his knees and clutched his head, trying to fight against the feelings of sleep, horror and trying to rid himself of the stun. The magister didn't want him dead, he wanted him rendered useless.

How long he felt tortured like that, he hadn't known, but it ended. He felt the magic release him, and the cloud of energy that should be there was gone. He opened his eyes and saw it, like a light, beautiful white light ripple across the battlefield. Varania had dispelled it. Fenris felt like a heavy weight had lifted off him and he could breathe again.

He struggled back to his feet. He saw Flavius imprisoned in an immobilizing force, and saw this as his opportunity. The magister swayed on his feet, eyes shut. What he played, Varania played also.

Fenris ran to the magister, alighting his markings. Flavius groaned in pain before Fenris even got to him. An arrow poked from the right side of his chest, another from his right shoulder. So Astoria had hit him, but Varania had done more damage. It was certain that the magister was suffering from some spell.

Finally in reach, Fenris thrust his fist into the magister's chest, and the man's eyes snapped open in panic. Fenris grinned.

"If you even think of fighting me, I'll kill you," he growled, closing his fingers around the beating heart of Flavius. The man cried out. "What can you tell me of Valinius' lyrium warrior?"

Flavius gaped at him and put his hands up in surrender, knowing he was in a terrible predicament. Danarius would have cowered for his life like this, but Fenris hadn't given him a chance.

"Wh-what? Who?"

"Don't be stupid -" Fenris glanced at Astoria and saw her curled up on the ground, crying beside the burning cart. If she didn't move it might collapse onto her, flames and all. "The little boy – ten years old with markings like mine."

"I know nothing of him," The magister said, and Fenris could tell he wasn't lying. "I've only glimpsed him – months ago."

"How is he? Where is he?"

The magister's knees were shaking. "He was fine when I saw him. Dannis was training him. He should be with Valinius – I know nothing more. I swear to it!"

Fenris knit his brow. "Dannis?" The name sounded familiar, but nothing more.

"Y-yes."

"Who's that?"

Flavius frowned for a moment. "He's the man that trained you to use your markings. Best in Thedas. Please – spare me, I mean you no harm, nor your... companions."

Fenris clenched his fist and ripped Flavius' beating heart from behind the shelter of his ribs. He tossed the thing to the ground and let the body fall in a slump. He heard men shouting in praise, whooping in victory.

He looked around him. Varania stood a distance away, watching him carefully, as if she was in awe. Astoria was still in immediate danger, and as he ran towards her, he saw the surrendered guards die as well as the last remaining guards. It seemed as though they had only lost about five rebels.

Fenris knelt down beside Astoria. Mud was in her hair, on her skin. Hot tears ran down her face, embers fell all around her. Fenris hauled her to her feet and one of her legs buckled as she cried out. Fenris leaned her against him as he strapped his sword to her back before scooping her up into his arms.

"Varania," he barked, moving away from the burning cart. Varania was curled over Eshan, healing whatever had happened to him. Eshan had to be held down by other rebels as he writhed against the feeling. Bones, he had probably broken. They were painful to have healed.

Astoria blinked at him through her tears. Fenris noticed a cut on her arm, but it wasn't deep. "Astoria?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice level. He knew he shouldn't fear so much for her, but he had come too far for something terrible to happen. Not now. Not with the world burning.

Eshan had been twitching when Fenris reached him. Hollan and Garsen were helping other injured rebels, looting the guards, looting the magister's pockets. Fenris set Astoria down beside Eshan and gestured to her.

"Help her," he told Varania, feeling drained as if the chilly, damp and darkening day had sapped all of his energy from him. Varania glanced at Astoria, her eyes intense and focused, but she only gave a small nod. She worked on Eshan's wound; a deep and fatal gash in his abdomen. Fenris watched the skin knit back together as Eshan jerked violently and hissed through clenched teeth.

When he was healed, he lay there, gasping and shaking. Varania looked at Astoria and then to Fenris. "What hurts, Astoria?"

"She fell of the cart, I think something's broken," Fenris said, gesturing to her legs.

"Yeah," Astoria managed to say as she balled her hands into fists and held them at her temples. "My left ankle."

"I'm going to check on any life-threatening situations, I'll be right back for her." She scurried off before Fenris could argue, though he knew she had a point. Astoria was in no danger of dying. When she came back, her hands bloodied, Varania stood and moved around to kneel beside Fenris, looking over Astoria.

Varania moved quickly, not bothering to take Astoria's boot off. "Hold her leg down, Fenris," she said. Fenris nodded and crossed over her, straddling her leg to face her ankle, holding her thigh down with his hands. Varania took a breath and held her hands over Astoria's ankle, shutting her eyes. Fenris watched the magic encase her foot and seep into it. Astoria groaned and tried to pull away from it, but Fenris held her there.

And then it was over. Varania sat back on her heels and ran her trembling hands over her face. "You'll be fine. Are you injured, Fenris?"

He shook his head. Beside him, Eshan was taking his time getting to a seated position. All around the rebels were taking inventory. Fenris retrieved Astoria's bow and arrows and brought them over to her where she sat massaging her ankle. Varania was walking over to Flavius, as if she couldn't believe that he was dead. When Fenris gave Astoria her belongings, he went to Varania and looked down at the dead magister.

"You killed Flavius," she said. "Good."

"A magister bleeds like any other."

She nodded solemnly.

"This staff must be stronger than yours."

Again, she nodded solemnly. "I'd loathe to use it, though."

Fenris shrugged. "I use the Blade of Mercy, which an Archon used to slay Andraste. I care no longer if it's a replica or the actual thing – it still cuts deep and kills those that try to do me harm. Why not use their own power against them? Take it, you'll need it."

Varania gaped at him, eyeing the blade on his back. She then looked back on the dead fool at her feet and picked up the bone white staff, eyeing it curiously.

"I suppose I could try."

Fenris turned on his heel and let himself feel relief, when all he felt before was fear and rage. All around him was blood, gore. Bodies dressed in maroon now stained with death, a death he felt they deserved. He stood near Astoria and dumped a bit of water on the blue strip of scarf around his wrist, washing the blood from it. Within him he felt that it wouldn't be the last time he did such a thing.


	54. Committed

**I'm back from camping! Again, I really can't thank you all enough for following along all this time - Pint-sized she-bear, Fallon-idalia, Kira Tamarion and Fenris' Lover for recent reviews. Since I've published the first chapter to now, it's described about the same length of time. I feel like we've all been on this journey together, and I'm going to be sad when this story's over - it will honestly be the first story (fanfiction or no) that I've ever finished.**

**We are so close to the end! Prepare for a long chapter next time. I will have a playlist written on my info page of music that I would recommend people listen to (because it's beautiful) or just to check out because certain songs would be from Astoria or Fenris' perspectives because I think they're so relatable.**

* * *

><p>Four nights had passed since the rebellion had murdered Flavius. Eshan had survived, but four other rebels had not, dwindling their horde of a rebellion down finally to around sixty. Avanna, the serving girl from Minrathous, grieved for one of them particularly – a lover from her past who she had not had the chance to make nice with. While a sense of mourning fell upon the group, Fenris realized he could be in Avanna's shoes, that he could have lost Astoria just as easily as any of the other men?<p>

And what if Astoria had died? What if Varania wasn't there – the only mage they had on their side, in their group?

Fenris shivered and gazed out upon the rebellion. Despite the mourning, morale was somewhat heightened after their victory. But along with these emotions, many were also anxious. The Senate meeting would begin on the morrow. The rebels that stayed behind, the sacrifices, would attack the Capitol building. Then either a war would begin or an empire would lose its legs and be in turn too crippled to fight back and crush them.

Fenris did not know which fate would fall upon them. If their uprising would be anything to sing about, it'd be an ambitious dream. He sighed and made his way towards the beach, the cool sand sliding between his toes.

The rebellion had been camping between sand dunes for two nights in a row now. Over a couple tall dunes, one could find the ocean, and in the opposite direction, one would find the jungle. This way, they were well hidden from both ships and travelers on the road. The smoke from their fires would be mistaken for farms from the water. It was a wonderful hiding spot, but as always, Fenris was never at ease. He made his way towards where he knew Astoria would be. A group of men were fishing down by the water, and Astoria had gone that way as well to help. As Fenris reached the summit of the dune, he squinted and saw her.

She stood in knee deep water, the ocean lapping at the shore and dragging itself out. The ocean was a curious thing he thought. It was like a lover that could never leave, always going back to the shore. The water was much clearer here than it had been in Kirkwall – which had been dark and cold and full of seaweed. Here it was clear, warm and empty. Astoria had loved it. When it was dark she would shed her clothes and swim.

Fenris descended down the dune. Behind him the sun dipped low, ready to leave them in the dark, the last day of August. The road had been so long, so troublesome and exhausting. Astoria had gone to him in the spring, towards the end of March. He had been so suspicious, he reflected, so cruel to her, and still after so long, she was still proving to him her honesty. Fenris had never expected that he'd have a wife from his past, and would never have dreamed of her being as selfless as Astoria.

The men on the beach were holding between them nets of fish. Fenris managed to keep from scowling as they yelled to each other. Feeding so many people had been a feat of its own, but people were managing. A commonality had brought them all together and people did not fight over scraps of food. Hunters would go ahead of the rebellion in search of game, often bringing back snakes and large birds or rodents that Fenris couldn't name.

Astoria didn't leave with the men as they began to bring their catch back towards the camp. She stayed on the beach, standing ankle deep in the water. To the east, directly ahead of them, the sky was darkening. As Fenris moved closer to her, nodding towards the men as he passed them, he noticed the bruise on her foot. Though Varania had mended the bone, she could not reverse the bruising of when she had fallen off Flavius' wagon. The entirety of Astoria's ankle was enveloped in black and blue and purple. It was interesting, as on the other foot she had a permanent scar from a burn. She said the bruise was not painful.

Fenris put his hands on her shoulders where he stood behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at him with a smile.

"Fenris."

He leaned forward and kissed her shoulder before moving to stand beside her. "I knew I would find you here."

She nodded, saying nothing. The wind from the ocean whipped her hair behind her, which in the past six months had grown longer and uncared for. Though she smiled at him reassuringly, Fenris knew something bothered her.

"What troubles you?"

She took a breath and looked down at her bare feet, her toes curling for balance as the water dragged the sand from under her soles back out to sea. "All of it. Everything." She glanced at him sidelong, and her eyes were apologetic.

Fenris stared at her calmly before looking out at the ocean – its warm, blue body laid out before them endlessly. If only they could get a ship and sail across it, go somewhere safe. But Astoria would never leave Lysander behind. They were so close to Asariel, Fenris half expected to smell the city, to see its lights any moment flickering onto the waves to the south. That meant they were close to Lysander, if he had not gone with Valinius to Minrathous.

"Are we going in the wrong direction? And what will we find when we reach the end?" She wondered, her voice solemn like an autumn day.

"We'll find him." Fenris could not say more than that, for he was an honest man and couldn't break her heart with any words. If he told her what he knew, she'd never forgive him, he was almost sure of it.

Astoria blinked back furiously at the tears in her eyes, but she couldn't keep them at bay. They slid down her cheeks, leaving streaks in the thin layer of dust and dirt on her features. She was afraid of all that was left to come, and Fenris knew that she should be. But what could he do for her? What could he do for the woman who had done so much for him?

Fenris removed his tunic, then his leggings, despite who was still in view – the hunters and fishermen going back to camp. He left his small clothes on for modesty's sake as well as the blue strip of the sari around his wrist, and tugged on Astoria's hand. "Swim with me."

Astoria forced the thinnest of smiles and removed her own clothing, even her breast band and smalls. She stood naked on the beach, and Fenris glanced back towards the dunes, but no one was watching them. He put his hand on the small of her back, frowning at the way the dipping sunlight made the whip marks gleam so slightly, like his own markings.

He had caused her that pain. Though it was not him to blame, he still felt guilty for it. He pushed on her back gently, and Astoria walked into the sea. The salt water swept over her and washed away the pain of the day. Astoria dove, and Fenris followed her.

In the ocean they touched each other, swimming in each other's arms, laughing and in a way, losing themselves. Their problems couldn't follow them into the water, that's why Astoria always swam at night, he realized. Fenris was glad to ease her suffering for a moment, but as darkness fell upon them, he knew they had to head back.

They reached the shore and Fenris found himself grabbing for her, dragging her down onto the sand with him hungrily. Astoria didn't deny him, she never had. She seemed to enjoy him as much as he enjoyed her. Whether they were a thing living with need or love, he was beginning to not be sure. He had never imagined himself loving anyone, the notion was unnerving. Their limbs tangled, their breath came in hot and fast, their lips and teeth dragging over each other's skin.

They came undone together, and Fenris tenderly pushed the hair from her face as he waited for them both to come down from it. Tomorrow they should be in Asariel – ready to attack Valinius' estate, and therefore find Lysander. Fenris shut his eyes and tried not to think of how it would change things, how it would change everything.

Fenris rested his head on her collarbone, not ready to free her from under him quite yet. Their clothes lay in a sandy heap out of reach of the fingers of the waves. Astoria's fingers trailed up his bare arms tenderly, as if she _loved_ him. He wondered if she did, if she could love someone who had inconvenienced her life so terribly. He was sure she did, in fact. He breathed her in as a wave splashed on their feet and then swept up to their legs. Her hands paused briefly. Astoria hooked a finger underneath the wet, salted strip of her sari on his wrist.

"Why do you wear this?" She asked.

Fenris kept his eyes shut, his face resting on her chest. He had known the question was coming, but had not thought of a reply that wouldn't feel like he was bearing too much. "I... it reminds me... of you. That I'm... committed." It was difficult to push the words out, but he did so anyway.

"...You are?"

Fenris ran his knuckles along her side. "Yes."

There was no answer for some time, and when Fenris pushed himself off of her, he saw her in the dim moonlight with tears running towards her ears. He helped her up and together they dressed and dried themselves.

"We're almost finished, remember," Fenris told her as they walked back towards camp. It was a feeble attempt to soothe her.

"I don't know, Fenris... I don't see how this could end well. It's been two-and-a-half years."

Fenris frowned but twisted his fingers into hers. "Even if Lysander isn't everything you hope for, remember there is still time for healing." _As I've healed, as I'm healing. I was more a feral dog than a man six months ago._

Fenris didn't know whether he meant it as a wish to not abandon all hope on the child (and him as well) or if he was also trying to assure her that all would be fine even though Lysander would be a marked monster just like he. Perhaps it meant neither or both.

"I would never forget that," Astoria swore, "all I ask is that he lives."

Fenris squeezed her hand reassuringly. He was nearly positive that Lysander was alive, but what good was that? "We won't rest until we find him." _Dead or alive._

And for that moment, it was enough.


	55. I've Got a Darkness so Rich and so Fine

When the breeze swept in from the east that morning, it brought with it cold feelings of dread, of anxiety and fear. The salt in the air was fresh and dry, the sun peeking out between small cracks in the clouds, bringing for once a temperature that was bearable. All was quiet on the land as it readied itself to plunge into complete chaos. The rebellion was a mass of people all speaking in whispers, hushed voices that spoke of war, battle and death.

The camp was on the move early, trying desperately to put even more distance between them and Minrathous, though they were already on Asariel's doorstep. By nightfall, war would be declared on them, on the rebellion as its entirety. The handful of men Hollan had sent into Minrathous to attack the Senate were preparing right now, probably kissing their families good-bye and praying to their Maker for a safe journey to the afterlife.

Fenris prayed to no one, but Varania did. He saw her with her hands clasped together tight, her lips mouthing a quiet litany, her eyes shut in deep thought and concentration. Fenris watched her and Solara, who was wrapped in a light blanket and tied to rest against Varania. Solara slept peacefully, oblivious to the palpable tension in the army around her. He envied the infant but pitied her also, for living in such an awful time and place.

Astoria was anxious, as was expected. As they marched, she attained a hard stare, seeming to glare at the jungle ahead of her. She had had an argument with Hollan earlier, when he suggested that they bypass Valinius' estate. In the end, she had won, though it was not sympathy for Lysander that finally fell in Hollan's favor – it was the promise of more bodies and soldiers, money, supplies and food that convinced him. Garsen also had to explain to Hollan that he had promised that they invade Valinius' estate. After a bit of grumbling, Hollan finally agreed.

Valinius' estate stood like a giant beacon when they came upon it at last. Astoria's breath went into her sharply, and she didn't seem to breathe again for some time. Fenris glanced between her and the estate, and let his eyes linger there.

Valinius' mansion was surrounded by a wall of gray stone with an iron, spiked gate leading from the road. Fenris saw two guards posted at the gate, who seemed relatively at ease. That told him that Valinius was not there. What lie beyond the gates, he didn't know.

It was late afternoon at this point and the sun slanted down into the vast west – setting over the Anderfels and the Volca Sea, and whatever unexplored lands that lay beyond that. Lands where slavery may or may not be the harsh truth of things, lands that may be quiet and free from humanoids and their languages and their customs and evil deeds. But here, things continued as planned. Hollan formulated a plan as Fenris stood and watched for any movement by the estate.

The guards of the estate hadn't seemed to notice the rebellion lingering on the edge of the jungle. Even so, the plan went as follows. Astoria and another rebel, a male archer, would go to the gate asking for work. When they were close enough, they'd attack the guards and signal for the rest of the rebellion to come. Fenris didn't like the idea, but sometimes a simple plan was just as efficient as a complex one, with less hassle. They were bringing down an estate, not an empire. Yet.

He waited patiently beside Eshan as Astoria and the male archer left to find the road. The rebellion had split into three groups – Hollan leading one group, Garsen leading another, and Eshan leading another. Hollan's had left to go to the left, Garsen's to go to the right. After Astoria and the archer killed the two guards, the three groups would close in on the mansion and attack and raid it. There was an understanding that slaves would not be harmed if it could be helped, and if any children were found they would be brought to Astoria immediately, unharmed. Fenris hadn't warned anyone that the boy would have markings on him.

He drew in a quick breath when he saw Astoria and the archer, a man named Keagan, walking up the road towards the mansion. They walked stiffly, nervously. Fenris felt his fingers twitch towards his sword from where he stood beside Eshan. He noticed one of the guards point to her, but that was all for a few minutes.

Solara made a whining noise for a moment, which was accompanied by Varania's gentle cooing. He hadn't even realized they were behind him. He kept his eyes planted on the guards and Astoria. The late summer cicadas began to buzz in the trees, loud as saws and obnoxious. The sounds fell away when he saw the movement. A guard at the gate threw up his hand to make Astoria halt. Fenris he felt his entire body twitch, wanting to run towards them, to be there to help.

"Settle down, brother," Varania said behind him, gently, "you wouldn't believe the situations she's gotten herself out of."

He frowned but said nothing, wishing he could hear the conversation that was happening before him. Up on the hill of the estate, the two guards began moving down the road with their hands on the hilts of their swords, speaking to Astoria and Keagan.

Both had their hands out in surrender, but Fenris knew that this was part of the plan. It still made him nervous. The two guards approached a few feet and it seemed that they told Astoria and Keagan to close the distance, which they did slowly and with deliberate steps.

Fenris watched as Astoria and Keagan came within about twenty feet of the guards. There was some conversation, and then slowly, methodically, Astoria and Keagan were each reaching for their bows and quivers.

Astoria laid hers down first, and slid her bow up the road towards them. Then, in the blink of an eye, it all changed. Keagan notched an arrow and aimed it at one guard. Distracted by him, the guards shifted their attention and Astoria pulled a dagger from her hip and sent it sailing into the neck of the other guard. Some men die so easily, as this one did.

Fenris could hardly hear the yelp of fear from the other guard before an arrow pierced his chest near his shoulder. Quick as that, another arrow flew past his ear and Astoria was bounding towards him with her other dagger drawn.

Before the man could scream, her blade found his neck and his body slumped to the ground beside the other. Then she waved, and that was the signal.

As silently as they could manage, the three groups began to close in from the surrounding jungle. Astoria rummaged through the pockets of the guards, drawing out a ring of keys and wrenching her dagger from a man's neck. Fenris was nearly sprinting across the open meadow at the base of the hill, drawing his sword and running with it in hand.

He was the first to reach the road. He met eyes with Astoria, who was wiping her bloody daggers on one of the guards' leggings. "Are you alright?" He asked breathlessly, concerned.

"Yes." Astoria glanced at the other groups moving towards them. "We'll need someone to move these bodies out of the road, and I have the key to the gate." She shook the ring of keys so they jangled in her hands.

The gleam in her eyes told him that she was more frightened than she may have ever been. "Is this really it, Fenris?" She asked him.

He nodded once, casting a wary glance at the estate to make sure that no one else was watching them._ This really is it._

"Come," he said to her as the rebellion neared them as quietly as could be managed in all their armor. "Let's find our son."

When at least a handful of rebels had reached them, they moved towards the gates after Astoria ordered two men to move the bodies off the road. She started towards the gates with Fenris at her side. He glanced around and saw Varania towards the end of the rebellion, trying to hush Solara. At this point, nearly everyone had reached them.

A palpable energy washed over the crowd – everyone eager to take part in what they considered to be a revolution. It was an interesting idea, if they would go down in history as anything more than one's average uprising. Fenris doubted it, anyway. It all hung over what would happen that night in Minrathous. If the Senate was successfully attacked, it'd be one of the most famous coups in history of the Imperium.

Astoria went to the gate and peeked in through the iron bars. She tried several keys, cursing at the loudness of the lock, before one finally turned and the lock came undone. She pulled it from the bars and Fenris grabbed one of the gates, pulling it open with some effort, the heavy thing swinging slowly to let them in.

Beyond the gates was a beautiful yard with hedges trimmed in several shapes, gardens leading up to a massive stone door to the mansion. Astoria cocked an arrow onto her bow and looked around.

Several collared elven slaves were working in the gardens, but there was no sign of a guard. One of the slaves, a young girl wearing little more than torn rags, spotted them and scrambled to her feet, her hands dirtied with black soil.

"Don't move," Astoria told the girl, therefore drawing the attention of the other slaves. "Where are all the guards?"

The girl was nearly trembling, Fenris almost felt pity for her. The other slaves stopped their work. It took only a few seconds for things to register, for them to realize what was going on. One woman screamed for help.

"Th-th-they're inside, Mistress," the girl said, pointing towards the massive doors.

"We're not here to hurt any of you," Astoria said, trying to keep her voice low. The woman who screamed was sprinting for the door to warn the guards.

Eshan sucked in a frustrated breath. "Damn her." Keagan shot an arrow at the door, making the woman stop in her tracks and fall to her knees in fear, trembling and shuddering.

Fenris couldn't believe he was standing inside a magister's property again, after all these years. He looked about at the slaves, who still worked in the absence of their master.

"Is Valinius here?" Astoria asked the slave girl, whose blond hair was cropped close to her head.

"No, Mistress," she whimpered, "p-p-please-"

Suddenly the massive doors opened, and a handful of guards were stepping out into the afternoon sun, rubbing their bellies and laughing, apparently having not heard the scream for help. They paused when they saw the scene before them – the slaves cowering before an army of armored elves. They all unsheathed their swords, one of them grabbing a horn from his belt and blowing into it.

The alarm rang out before one of Keagan's arrows pierced his cheek, and Astoria knew it was already too late. The entire mansion knew they were under attack. There would be a swarm of guards, whoever the magister left behind, out for them now.

Fenris and the other warriors ran towards the guards with weapons drawn, battle cries piercing the hot, late summer air. Some of the slaves were screaming, the other guards scrambling to ready their weapons with bellies heavy and full of ale and food. When the cat's away, the mice will play, Fenris remembered. They had arrived at the mansion at a good time.

The handful of guards, when they saw their attackers, backed up in quickly escalating panic. They were outnumbered somewhere around 10 to 1. One of them tried to open the door to the mansion, but the rebellion was too close by then.

Fenris slashed his greatsword into one man, making his armor crumple into his body. The man collapsed, gasping for air and Fenris swung his sword into the man's neck. It was an ugly sight. The guards were dead within seconds, as outnumbered as they were. It was not a fair fight by any means, but nothing was fair in Tevinter.

A few rebels stayed outside to round up the slaves and get them out of the way and explain to them what was happening there and across the Empire. The rest of the rebellion went into the great stone mansion. Fenris looked behind him in the clamor and found Astoria. She was standing still, fear in her wide, blue eyes that reminded him so much of the sea and autumn skies. He remembered how monumental this day would possibly be for her. How terrible it would be for her to take in the sight of her son, marked as Fenris was, for the first time in well over two years. He took her hand in his and squeezed it.

"We should split up," Astoria told him, "we- we'll find him quicker." Her voice shook, hands trembled. The rebellion moved on past them, paying them no mind. There were shouts down the hallway – likely more guards rushing to the scene only to find themselves overwhelmed. Fenris was not worried that they'd be harmed – they outnumbered the guards in the mansion by such an extreme amount that the estate was as good as theirs.

"No, stay with me," he commanded. He feared how she would react when she saw Lysander. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Astoria said no more, and started moving away from him. He went with her down a hallway that the rest of the rebellion hadn't. The large group had split into several smaller groups, going down the wider, main hallways, shouting and looking for guards. Slaves ran about, cowering and pleading for their lives though no one threatened them.

Fenris saw the resemblance of this mansion with Danarius' and it sent shivers down his place had a lingering scent of blood magic. Statues of all sorts lined the walls - gruesome and fierce creatures, flawless bodies both male and female, busts of previous magisters. Fenris hated them all. He went before Astoria down the hallway, checking each room they passed – parlors, dining halls, supply rooms and guest bedrooms.

In some rooms they found a slave cleaning, and more than once Astoria had to assure them they weren't to be harmed. She'd also ask if the slave knew where to find Lysander, but half the slaves would look confused, and Fenris would have to repeat the question in Arcanum, and the other half would shake their heads no. But Astoria never lingered in a room, and she was running within a few minutes.

Fenris was beginning to lose hope. They found the kitchens, a hot, steamy place with roughly seven slaves cooking stews and baking bread, oblivious to the fact that their home was being invaded. The elves turned to them with widened eyes. One woman, a middle-aged elf, grabbed a nearby girl by the wrist and pulled her behind her.

"What do you want?" The woman asked, her voice cold and panicked.

"I'm looking for a little boy," Astoria told her, holding her palms up in peace. "His name is Lysander. He's almost ten years old."

The woman's eyes widened, and Fenris knew that she knew _something_. The woman picked up a cast iron frying pan with calloused hands and narrowed her eyes at Astoria.

"Who are you and what's happening?"

Fenris scowled. Was the woman going to dare attack them? He shifted his hand so she could see his sword flashing in the light of the kitchen. The woman barely glanced it.

"We're freeing you," Astoria said, "Valinius will be dead by midnight, we're uprising, all across the Imperium. Fighting back. Where is my son, Lysander? You know something."

The woman shook her head adamantly, but Fenris could tell she was lying. He glanced around at the other elves, who were all watching him carefully and with fear.

"Where is he?" Fenris growled, clearly irritated.

"I don't know who you mean," the woman spat back. "You never should have come here, where will we go?"

"Come with us," Astoria replied with just slightly more patience than Fenris had. "We're a large group, we outnumber your guards ten to one, and we're not here to hurt you. Join us, join the fight."

The woman shook her head and threw with all her might. The cast iron pan soared through the air and landed heavily near them, crashing into the wall and then knocking over several pans and pots.

Fenris had enough. He rounded and stalked towards the woman. "Where is the boy?" He demanded to know, keeping his hands on the pommel of his sword. "You know where he is!"

Confronted by the likes of him, the woman lost all her defiance. She took a few frightened steps back and stuttered out her answer. "H-h-he lives n-near the barracks, in a private room. Towards the courtyard in the back!"

"Show us," Fenris growled low and menacingly. The woman threw up her hands in surrender and waited for Fenris to step aside before she moved towards the door.

In the hallway, Fenris and Astoria followed the woman beyond small groups of the rebellion that ran about. He saw some guards being held captive, slaves running from the rebellion.

He understood why the slaves feared the rebellion. If their master came back to a ransacked mansion, they'd all be killed. Still, it was frustrating, trying to calm them when he knew freedom was waiting for all of them.

For the most part, it seemed as if most of the guards had been rooted out, found and killed. They didn't see any more running around aside from the few that had been taken as hostages – guards that had surrendered and laid down their swords.

The woman led them down through winding, long hallways that started to narrow and darken with few torches. She stopped in front of a flimsy wooden door with scratches. The woman knocked and then opened the door.

It seemed like all time paused, stretching and slowing. Fenris found himself grabbing onto Astoria's wrist in a dim and desperate hope to keep her from running into something that would destroy her. The door swung open, Fenris sucked in a breath, and then let it go.

The room was empty. It was empty aside from a blanket laid out on the floor and a meager pile of clothes, more like rags than anything. Astoria burst into the room and turned to the elven woman frantically.

"Where else could he be?"

The woman was about to answer when Fenris heard a commotion. He spun on his heel and looked down the hall. Three guards had spotted him. He let go of Astoria's wrist and growled, rolling his shoulders. They had a ways before they'd reach him.

Astoria was arguing with the elven woman. Part of him ached for her, more of him than he'd like to admit. The longer the boy spent away from her, the more likely it was that he'd be injured in the raid of the mansion by an accident on either side. This was a critical time in his safety.

The three guards raced towards him, but he soon realized they were actually running from a small band of the rebels. Good, Fenris thought. They had struck fear in the guards. The mansion was as good as theirs, though he still had to find Lysander and any research on his markings.

Fenris stepped into the doorway and waited, though the guards had seen him do so. When their heavy, steel-plated steps sounded close, he jumped out into the hallway.

Fenris worked in a flurry, a dance of fury and rage and deft skill. He shoved one guard into another, tripping the man in the middle. A sword cut into his thigh, but the guard had fallen onto the other, their armor smashing into each others. The last guard kept running, and Fenris took off after him, figuring that the other rebels and Astoria could take care of the other two.

The guard that had slipped by was fast, but burdened by heavier armor. Even so, Fenris was slowed by the gash in his leg. He ignored the pain by gritting his teeth and managing somewhere between a sprint and a limp, clumsily moving after the guard.

They rounded a corner and the guard flew into a room on the right. The door was just about the click shut when Fenris slammed into it, throwing his entire weight into it. The door burst open for him and his sword clattered to the ground deafeningly.

Fenris stumbled into the room and faced the guard who was just getting to his feet. The man gripped his sword and shield and started towards Fenris, his eyes wild and fearful.

He had hoped he'd be able to interrogate the man, but it was now an unreasonable request. There were shouts and battle cries coming in from a window leading to the outdoors, screams of pain coming from down the hallway. Fenris leapt out of the way, favoring his uninjured leg, and faded into a wraith. Blue lit up the area of the room, and upon hearing gasping, he realized he was not alone in the room with the guard. Another slave, he figured.

The guard had not expected such a thing, which always seemed to work in Fenris' benefit. Fenris reached into the man's throat and crushed his windpipe before ripping his hand out and pushing the guard away from him. He wiped his bloodied hand on his leggings and reached for his sword, picking it up from the ground.

Fenris turned and faced the rest of the room. There, on the other side of a bed, stood a man – broad shouldered, caramel colored skin, dark eyes and hair, the scruff of a beard growing in. He was fully armored, but he did not look a guard. Fenris noticed a smaller person behind him with a head of dark hair poking out behind him. The man stepped between them so Fenris could not see the smaller.

The man was staring at Fenris as if he knew him. Fenris stood for a moment, silently wondering if he should attack the man. The afternoon breeze swept into the room from the windows, making the curtains dance. The sorrowful music of death and panic drifted in, swords clashing together, men meeting at arms.

Fenris narrowed his eyes, trying to place the man because he seemed slightly familiar.

"What are you doing here?" Asked the man, his brown eyes gleaming with intent. Fenris snarled.

"Looking for someone. Move aside. Who are you?"

"Who are you looking for, Fenris?" The man asked, not stepping aside. Fenris scowled, but something warm gleamed in the man's eyes, something knowing.

"You know me?" Fenris asked, willing himself not to let his guard down. He saw another movement behind the man.

"My name is Dannis."

When it clicked, Fenris nearly dropped his sword, shocked silence ensuing. He stared at the man, but couldn't remember training with him. "Y-you're Dannis?"

Dannis nodded, but his smile faded quickly. "Yes, and I remember you well."

"I-I'm looking for my son – I've heard that you know him -"

Then the figure behind Dannis stepped out from behind him, and this time Dannis did not try to keep it hidden. Fenris shifted his green gaze and locked eyes with eyes so similar to his own that he was sure he was looking in the mirror. Big, solemn, emerald eyes watched him carefully, surrounded by dark lashes so much like his mother's. Fenris could see that the boy's nose would be like his own, but he had his mother's mouth and chin.

He was tall for his age, but lanky and thin like any slave. Dark hair was growing to a length similar to Fenris', though it was curling slightly and thick with the humidity.

Fenris found his eyes shifting further, settling on the markings that he had known the child had in the back of his mind. The markings were black, though, not like his own and thankfully not so numerous. He frowned at the fresh marks, the areas of the boy's skin that was scabbed over or bleeding. Lysander had bandages on his hands, one of which gripped a short sword with a rusted edge.

Fenris had never prepared himself for this moment. Which was the ironic part, really, since it had been six months in the making. He stood still, mouth parted in shock, at a loss for any words. He could point out the child out of a crowd, for there was no question of whose he was. Still, Fenris could do little more than stare at the child that had gone through

"Who has sent you?" Dannis asked. "I was aware that you had no memory."

Fenris opened his mouth to speak, but found his words caught in his throat. The boy watched him as if Fenris was something foreign and something to be feared.

"He remembers his mother," Dannis explained for Fenris. "Is she...?"

The words didn't register in his mind until Lysander looked between Dannis and Fenris, fear working through his young features in waves. Fenris swallowed hard, like he was choking on his own throat.

"My mother?" Lysander asked, his voice straining in panic. "Is she alright?"

"She's fine," he answered, and Lysander visibly shook with relief.

"Where is she?" Lysander asked, and Fenris felt his stomach clench.

This was his son, he told himself. The resemblance was so clear, so obvious, but overcoming the shock of it was another feat in itself. Fenris shifted his weight and tried to look non-threatening, lowering his sword. "I'll take you to her...," then he added shakily, "my son."

Lysander looked at Dannis, who smiled warmly at him. It struck Fenris how frightening this must all be for him. He was seeing his father for the first time. Lysander's first memory of Fenris would be of him ripping a man's throat out. Sometimes he cursed his own visciousness.

"How bad is it out there?" Dannis asked Fenris. "Things sound as if they're calming down."

Fenris couldn't take his eyes off Lysander, but he managed to nod. "Yes, they are. I believe we've found all the guards."

Dannis nodded. "I'm coming with you."

Lysander stepped warily towards Fenris, who cast an uneasy glance at Dannis. "You don't seem worried?" Fenris accused.

Dannis stood behind Lysander and smiled at Fenris. "I am not completely unaware of the revolution. I knew there would be an uprising, I just did not expect it to be here... or you."

Fenris couldn't find the humor in him to snort or laugh. He pressed his lips together and noticed Lysander staring at him, at his markings, armor and sword. But he said nothing and Fenris muttered, "I'll take you to Astoria."

They stepped out into the hallway, the three of them, and Fenris limped quickly back the way he came chasing the guard. Lysander said nothing to him, and Fenris said nothing to the boy. What would they have to say that couldn't wait until he was reunited with his mother?

He saw Astoria in the hallway when they rounded the corner. She was shaking her head at the elven woman, the other rebels nearby were looting the two guards they had killed.

"Mama!" Lysander nearly screamed as he saw her. Astoria turned her head, her blue eyes wide and meeting Fenris' before finding the boy beside him. As soon as she saw him, it seemed like the years fell from her in sheets. Once again she looked as youthful, as happy as she had in his memories, a younger woman then with less to fear and less to lose.

Lysander was running within the blink of an eye, Astoria pushing past the rebels to get to him. Tears streamed down her face as she ran and crouched. Lysander bowled into her, their arms wrapping around each other's bodies for the first time in nearly three years. Fenris winced, hoping Lysander's markings didn't hurt him the way they hurt himself. But Lysander was clutching onto Astoria, and she him, as if their lives depended on it, so it must have not hurt the boy so much. Fenris had never seen two people so happy before and his heart ached for them both. He smiled, his heart warmed, feeling an affection for her, perhaps even for them, that he had not known he had. Their journey had not been in vain.

For a moment, everyone else in the hallway went quiet to watch. Astoria's sobs and Lysander's crying were the only sounds to be heard, it seemed even the fighting outside had ended. The world would give them its peace for a moment.

Astoria pulled her face away, streaming with tears, to push the hair out of Lysander's face and look at him. She kissed his cheek, his forehead and promised she'd never let anyone take him from her again. She cried and cried, and Fenris made his ways towards her, feeling oddly left out, a stranger watching on the outside, wishing he had a part in it all.

Most of the rebels moved out of the hallway, probably to secure the rest of the estate. The elven woman that had been arguing with Astoria moved on, shooting an angry glance at Fenris as she left, flustered and agitated. Dannis stood nearby Fenris, silently watching the scene around him with unwavering curiosity.

Minutes passed before Astoria pulled away from Lysander and fresh tears fell from her eyes. "You... you're marked. Do they hurt, my dear?"

Lysander shrugged his young shoulders and glanced over at his father, as if making sure he was still there. Fenris knew the boy would have a lot of questions for him, and Fenris had many for Lysander, such as how he still had his memories. "Only while they're healing."

Fenris looked at Dannis. "Have you been with him for the past three years?"

Dannis glanced sidelong at Fenris and then smiled at the reunited mother and son. "Yes. I've been training him. As I trained you."

He frowned, feeling immensely sorrowful for his son. "So he's-"

"He's never had to use his markings, I promise you. He _can,_ but the magister did not know that. We've been putting it off, for reasons I'm sure you can understand." Dannis watched Fenris' face with dark but warm eyes.

"I have many questions for you," he said in reply, after an exhausted sigh and a glance at his bleeding leg. "But thank you, I suppose, for watching him."

Dannis smiled again. "He's a boy still. You were a man when Danarius gave you those," Dannis nodded towards Fenris' body, indicating his markings, "I wouldn't want a child to have to do what you did."

Fenris watched Astoria hug Lysander with such exuberance, Fenris felt like he was seeing another side of her for the first time. Her smile was wide, eyes bright and filled with delight. Tears fell freely, but they were tears of joy. He had never seen her so happy.

Suddenly he realized that Lysander's markings didn't matter to her, it seemed. Lysander was alive, and it was more than Astoria had ever hoped. Perhaps that's how she felt with him as well. Fenris wondered how blind he had been not to see it before. All the time he spent ruminating that he was not good enough for her was meaningless. Astoria didn't care, she just wanted them alive all along.

"How did you train him?" Fenris asked amidst the chaos in his mind. "You have no markings that I can see."

Dannis chuckled. "In Qarinus, Magister Suvius had a lyrium warrior, and I taught him battle tactics and was good friends with him as he tapped into his abilities. I was interested in them, he told me everything he could of how he used them. With that knowledge, I was able to teach you and also him." Dannis nodded towards Lysander who had his arms thrown tightly around his mother's neck, his face buried in her shoulder. She was laughing and crying and shaking with relief.

Fenris pressed his lips together and gave Dannis a curt nod. Astoria and Lysander pulled away and held hands as she stood back up and wiped at the tears on her face. Fenris went towards her and put his palm on the small of his back, ignoring the pain in his leg.

"Fenris," Astoria said as she took in a long breath. Lysander eyed him cautiously, but Fenris understood how Lysander could be so wary of strangers. He had been worse, in fact, when he had freed himself from Danarius. "You found him," she said, a fresh wave of tears pouring from her eyes. Fenris rubbed her back and placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

Months ago he had wondered if he'd lead Astoria to Lysander and then leave, without telling the boy he was his father. But that was then, before he had trusted her, and now everything was different. Kissing Astoria in front of Lysander was like making a commitment, a public display for all to know his intentions. He wasn't going anywhere.

Lysander smiled at his mother, his green eyes sparkling with elation. Fenris smiled a small smile which only fell when he noticed the markings again. They weren't as numerous as Fenris', but they wove around his skin like vines, dark as night and thin, tendrils and fingers snaking around his arms, shoulders, neck, legs.

"Do you... did you introduce yourself?" She asked him quietly, though Lysander still heard her. Fenris nodded and his eyes fell on Lysander.

"He knows."

"He's my father," Lysander said to further prove the point. The boy tilted his head, so much like Fenris', and asked, "I thought you had black hair."

Astoria laughed, her shoulders shaking as she clapped a hand to her forehead. Fenris scoffed and smirked. "I used to. But when I got... the lyrium, it changed."

Lysander opened his mouth to say something, but Dannis stepped up beside Fenris and explained. "The color of the lyrium can be altered, and whatever the color of the lyrium is, the color your hair will be. I don't know why they do it or how it happens, but it does."

Astoria narrowed her eyes at the man, and Fenris realized she was the only one who didn't know who he was.

"Er, Astoria," Fenris said, splaying his fingers out on the small of her back, "this man, Dannis, is the one that trained me to use my markings. He's been working with Lysander for three years. He's kept him safe, I understand."

She nodded, her guard falling. "Pleasure to meet you, then."

Dannis smiled and dipped his chin. "The pleasure is mine. You have a wonderful son."

"I do," she said, finally smiling at Lysander and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "My sweet boy," she pulled him towards her and hugged him tightly, sobbing.

Fenris heard footsteps and glanced up to see a handful of rebels sweeping towards them. Eshan led the group, his steps quick and rigid, his sword held tightly in his hand.

"I see we've found what we came here for," Eshan said as he neared them. There was a gash on his cheek, blood on his fists. Eshan grinned. "It looks like we've secured the estate." Eshan glanced at Dannis and then back to Fenris. "You all might as well settle in, we're going to be here for the night."

Eshan glanced at Dannis' sword and shield and then to Lysander. He moved on with the other rebels and left Astoria in the hall with Lysander, Fenris and Dannis.

Dannis cleared his throat as finally Astoria and Lysander ended their hug. "Let me show you a place to sit. I'm sure we all have a lot to say to each other."

Fenris' green eyes flitted to Astoria. She wiped at the rest of her tears and nodded. "Sounds good. Come, sweetie." She kissed Lysander again on the forehead and then Fenris on the cheek.

He smiled and threaded his fingers through her free hand. Had nearly six months really gone by? It was worth it, though. Fenris ran his thumb over the back of her hand and gestured for Dannis to lead the way.

They made their way down the wide, gaping hallway, hands locked together. Fenris felt glad that he was being included, glad that he had made Astoria so happy. Would it always feel so nice? He ran his thumb over the back of her palm and looked at his child.

What had slavery, forced labor, lyrium and separation from his mother done to Lysander? The boy's smile was genuine and lively, but it did not reach his eyes, which were solemn and weary and above all, scared. Fenris remembered how broke he had been upon reaching his own freedom. How much worse would it be for a boy, a child? Something told him that would be the most difficult part of their journey, that the six months leading up to this day had been the easiest of all.

What had the magister harmed that could be repaired, and what would be left for the wolves?

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><p><strong>Please review! I feel like no matter how many times I go through this chapter, I can't get it to be any more emotional than I have it. Thank you so much, everyone, all of you wonderful souls, for following along this long journey. =)<strong>


	56. Fireflies

**Hi everyone! Thank you to Wicked Lullaby, Fallon Idalia, Thot84, Pint-sized She Bear and ThornlessRose12 for your reviews - as I've said before, they mean so much and they keep me motivated! You are all amazing and I appreciate so much how much time you've all spent in reading my work.**

**That being said - my computer broke and I lost the entire story from my computer, including the chapter I had been working on, so I had to rewrite it. That's what I get for buying a Mac where each computer part is like $600 for no reason. So... thank you all so much for your patience, I'm sorry this took so long.**

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><p>"Do you remember we used to watch the fireflies?" Astoria asked, her voice calm and soft. Motherly.<p>

Fenris found himself smiling. They didn't know he was there. He had snuck up quietly several minutes prior, when Astoria had been singing to Lysander. Fenris stood in an archway that opened up to the courtyard, illuminated by the light of the moon, leaning his shoulder against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. About twelve feet off, Astoria and Lysander sat on a stone bench, Lysander on his side with his head in her lap.

"I remember," Lysander answer, his voice sleepy. It had been a long day. Fenris had spent the last two hours with Dannis in the study - piecing together a large and complex puzzle. He learned that Dannis had trained him for about a month before being sent away the day Fenris killed five of Danarius' guards. Apparently, Dannis had said, the enchantment that had made Fenris lose his memory was weak around triggers - which turned out to be people, places and things from Fenris' past. That's what brought on his memories coming back, that's why Dannis had been sent away.

He also learned that becoming ill recently was likely due to the lyrium breaking apart. "It's poisonous," Dannis explained grimly, "and you will be sick for some time, I'm sure. I suspect you may lose your ability to use them entirely, with time."

Fenris had felt a sense of loss upon hearing the words, which on a different level infuriated him. As much as he resented the markings, they were a part of him. _They had served me wel_l, he recalled telling Hawke.

"Will it kill me?" Fenris asked, glad that neither Astoria nor Lysander were there with them. The child had questions of his own for his mother, and Fenris agreed that they needed to be alone. The estate was safe enough to roam around in, for the time being.

"I suspect not," Dannis answered, his lips pursed together tight. "I think they would have killed you a long time ago."

"I thought you've worked with lyrium warriors," Fenris accused.

"I have," Dannis explained. "But lyrium warriors don't live as long as you have. Their masters send them into battles thinking they can take down an entire army single-handedly. A man like you automatically goes through more dangers. Only because you've escaped have you lived so long."

Fenris frowned at the memory. What if the markings did kill him? Wouldn't they do the same to Lysander in the same number of years? He blinked and tried to rid himself of the thought. Before him the courtyard was quiet, only the whisper of Astoria and Lysander could be heard. Behind him and down a long hallway, members of the rebellion were celebrating their victory in the dining hall.

"There are fireflies in Ferelden," Astoria explained. She leaned on one palm, and with her free hand she ran her fingers through Lysander's hair. "They come around at the end of the summer."

"Is that where we're going when we leave?"

"Yes."

"Him, too?"

Fenris felt himself still. They didn't know he was there, so it hadn't mattered anyway. He knew that Lysander had meant him.

"I believe so. Why do you ask, my dear?"

Lysander's little shoulders shrugged. "Can he keep us safe? I'm not that good of a warrior."

"Oh, sweetheart," Astoria laughed, throwing her head back and chuckling, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. "We'll get home just fine, don't worry. You sleep, it's late."

"I don't like sleeping."

"Why's that?"

"Nightmares."

Astoria dipped her chin and looked at him seriously. "We all get them, honey. They're just dreams. No more. You're safe now."

Lysander sighed. Astoria began humming and swayed slightly to a song only she could hear. Fenris waited, still as a statue, his frame casting an ominous shadow on the stone before him where the light from inside the mansion spilled out unbridled. Astoria's voice, soft and solemn, cut through the late summer evening air and sent shivers up his spine.

As she sang, Fenris wondered what she had sang to Lysander before and where she had learned them. He knew that she left home because her family would marry her off, and joined a traveling band of minstrels. He wondered if she hoped she'd never left home. She'd probably be surrounded by four sturdy walls, supported by a steady income and have children all clutching at her skirts. She wouldn't have them - two broken people, a man and a boy.

Maybe she did wish things had turned out differently. He'd never know, he decided as he subconsciously used one foot to scratch the calf of his other leg, still watching. Minutes passed, the fireflies flickered away and a half moon bathed the courtyard in a dim and silver ribbon of light. Fenris could hear Lysander, not long after, breathing heavily in sleep. He shut his eyes, took a long breath and then stepped forward to sit beside Astoria.

"Oh- Fenris, you scared me half to death!" She whispered with a hand on her heart.

"My apologies," he replied quietly, glancing to see Lysander still asleep on his mother's lap.

"It is nice to see you," Astoria told him. He swallowed hard and nodded once.

"You also. How is he?"

Astoria looked at her child and then back to him. "He's been through a lot for someone so young. He said that he's had to train from sunup to sundown since he's been here. He can do what you can do." She placed a palm on his arm, wiping gently at his markings. "Though, he says that he's never had to kill anyone. The magister didn't know that he could use his markings."

"That's something to be glad for," Fenris observed. "He'd be a different person if he'd been made to hurt others."

Astoria nodded, silently raking her fingers through the boy's hair, her eyes sad and pale in the light of the moon. "I don't know how to... help him."

The guilt was a thing living. Fenris knew that the boy had been kidnapped and made to be a lyrium warrior because of the fact that the ability was something genetic. If Fenris had never been given the markings - Lysander would have been able to stay with his mother. Fenris never wanted them, but he still felt guilty.

"I was in a worse state than he when I escaped," Fenris said coolly, gazing out at the courtyard. It was difficult to look her in the eye and say something personal, still, even though he had made love to her. "If I can be... helped, then he certainly can as well."

She smiled hopefully and rubbed her temples. "I suppose no one is beyond repair."

Fenris snorted and squeezed her thigh. "Once we get him out of Tevinter, I'm sure you'll see a change."

She pressed her lips together in contemplation. Her mind appeared to be somewhere else. "What... how do you get them?" Her eyes flitted towards his arms, obviously meaning his markings. "What does the process entail?"

Fenris frowned. "I didn't know, honestly, until Dannis told me today. All I could remember was the pain from receiving them. The magisters... carve the design into your skin and pour in the lyrium, which has been melted down. It kills your hair. He - Dannis - believes that... since it's poisonous, that eventually it starts to break apart. That's why I've been becoming ill recently. The enchantment begins to lose its power."

Astoria turned to him, eyes wide and mouth gaping in fear. "Oh no, Fenris -"

"It'll be fine," Fenris quickly said, "he doesn't think it'll kill me. Like Lysander, I have a certain immunity to the substance."

The relief in her eyes was clear as day. "Thank the Maker," she murmured, "that was about to be news I wouldn't be able to stand."

Fenris pressed his lips together tight and glanced at Lysander asleep in her lap. "You don't seem to be celebrating much."

Astoria nodded in agreement. "I know... It should feel... different, right? Like all is well? It doesn't feel like it."

Fenris braced himself against the cold bench and stared solemnly at the ground. "It is for the better, I'd presume. As long as we are here, we are in extreme danger."

Silence between them passed with only the sounds of cicadas, merriment inside the mansion and night birds bursting in the air. The night was a cool, steady thing around them. Fenris feared that the peace would not last long. Men - hopefully - were dying in Minrathous right now. Powerful, spiteful men that would sooner burn their Empire to the ground than listen to the grievances of the slaves.

"How did your talk with Dannis go? The rest of it, I mean."

"Well enough." He scratched his knee absent of mind and then his gaze slanted towards her. "Things were almost very different for you and I."

Astoria narrowed her eyes curiously. "How so?"

Fenris waved vaguely, trying to muster together his courage. "If it had been Valinius... not Danarius... things would have been different. Apparently in Qarinus, a magister discovered that there's something genetic with the markings. You could probably withstand them too, apparently both parents need to have the... immunity. Nonetheless, Valinius described to Dannis that he would have taken you as well, when I won the competition. He would have let me keep my memories. Good behavior on my part would be rewarded with time spent with you, with the expectation that we'd have more children - in a way to create a small army of lyrium warriors. Any child that we'd have that wasn't a mage would be forced to receive them."

"Really? Why... why didn't Danarius do this?"

"Apparently it wasn't a known fact yet, the genetic component. However, Valinius always had his suspicions. Danarius, though, was too proud to 'share' me, as Valinius had described it." Fenris visibly shuddered and steeled himself, looking out at the courtyard warily. "For Danarius, you were something to be forgotten. For Valinius, you would have been a tool used to coerce me." He shook his head and clenched his fists before releasing them. "I don't know who I hate more for it."

Astoria leaned towards him and kissed him gently on his exposed shoulder. "How do you think it would feel... to have everyone that ever meant you harm dead?"

"It will never happen," he replied quickly, solemnly. "Even if the magisters were all dead, there still remains my sister." He scowled and shook his head, trying to rid himself of some dark thought. "It doesn't matter. The magisters are still alive. I'll always be hunted by someone."

"But isn't all the evidence of your existence here? All of Danarius' research - you have it now, right? Who could know -"

"I know," Fenris seethed, pushing on his knees to stand. "They'll never stop hunting me down, you're a fool to think otherwise." He began pacing with his fists at his sides. Astoria watched him as she stroked Lysander's hair. "My markings are worth more than their weight in diamonds. It is too tempting for any magister to just let me be - I'm sure they've all heard of me."

Astoria chewed on her bottom lip and frowned, bothered by his sudden outburst. "Right now, likely, the rebels are attacking the Senate. Once that happens, even if any aren't killed, I'm sure they'll declare war. No magister will send any of their men away to find you - and honestly, you're likely to be dead by now for them anyway - not when their lives are in immediate danger from a rebel army that they realize is much larger than they thought. This chaos is a great diversion for us to leave in the midst of, and flee to safety."

Fenris stopped in his tracks and sighed heavily, glancing at Astoria almost sheepishly. "You have a valid point." He shook his head, white locks of hair that had gotten too long for his liking swishing in front of his eyes. Astoria began to shift, to pull Lysander into her arms to bring him inside. "I... here... let me carry him."

Fenris scooped up the child with little physical effort, but his unease was clear with holding him. Astoria thanked him and showed him their quarters - a room in the guard barracks with two small beds. Fenris laid Lysander down on the mattress and then stood, wiping his palms on his leggings. Astoria went into the washroom to draw a bath.

Several minutes later, Lysander was in a deep sleep underneath the blankets and Fenris and Astoria stripped in the washroom, exhausted and sore. Fenris grit his teeth as he peeled the fabric of his leggings off of the wound in his leg.

"Oh, Fenris -" Astoria went towards him, naked and bruised in the ribs. "What happened? You should have said something, Varania could have healed this."

Fenris scowled and gripped her shoulder as she examined the gash. "It isn't bad," Fenris argued. "I hardly feel it."

Astoria pressed her lips together, frowning, and stood. "I suppose it isn't. Maybe the water will do it some good."

Fenris grunted in agreement and followed her into the bath. He submerged himself in the water fully, enjoying the muted sounds of existence around him, the noises of Astoria moving in the water. He came up for air and pushed his hair away from his features, looking at her. Astoria had her eyes shut, fingertips moving along the surface of the clear water, teasing it. She looked so at peace, for the first time since he could remember.

After a few moments she looked at him curiously, head tilted slightly. "So do you remember Dannis?"

Fenris shook his head. "No. I only knew him for a couple weeks, apparently. He was able to tell me a lot. Did you ever wonder why I lost my memories?"

Astoria shrugged, but he knew that she had some assumptions. "So you wouldn't miss your family, I assume."

Fenris took a breath. He hadn't told her what he remembered - about killed all those guards at Danarius', hadn't told her that Dannis had confirmed it. "Well... yes. There's more."

Astoria stood and stepped across the bath to sit beside him. The water cascaded down her naked form, but Fenris looked away as to not seem lecherous and to not be so distracted. "Er," he began, clearing his throat, "you sent me a letter. I had a guard read it for me - guards are slaves too, in some cases. I decided that I couldn't stay in Danarius' service, not when you were with child and it sounded like things were difficult for the three of you."

Astoria put a hand on his chest, a worried expression claiming her features. Fenris continued, staring at the water. "I tried to escape, killing a handful of guards in the process. Danarius and his men caught me before I even left the estate, and he told me that I wouldn't remember my own name when he was done." Fenris scoffed bitterly. "Though he had taken _that_ as well by that time."

Her hand moved and she went closer to him, straddling him with grave concern on her face. "I'm so, so sorry." Fenris wondered if she'd burst into tears. Her palms rested on the skin of his neck, her fingers laced behind it. It was a gesture, a touch, that he'd never have been able to handle before, but now it brought him no anxiety. Someone's hands on his neck - it was something he never thought he could swallow. But then again, there were a lot of things he had done in the past six months he had never imagined doing.

"The fault does not lie with you," Fenris murmured, shutting his eyes for a brief second. "I chose to compete, to get these markings."

"You didn't know what the price would be."

Fenris smirked and then shook his head. "It would have changed nothing, I'm afraid."

Time passed, the water cooled, and Astoria and Fenris found themselves wrapped in a desperate embrace full of hunger and adoration. A false sense of security seemed to make them each all the more eager. The water splashed around them, Astoria moaned quietly into his neck, Fenris ignored the pain in his leg as they made love like they had every night since leaving the city. When they climbed out of the tub at last, they clothed and fell into the only other small bed in the room, exhausted and spent as only grueling months on the road could do to someone. Fenris draped his arms around Astoria and settled against the hard mattress.

As he lay there, Fenris wondered the state of things elsewhere - Hawke in Kirkwall, the magisters in Minrathous - and felt a deep uneasiness scrape at him from inside, like a creature yearning to be free. He fell asleep haunted by nightmares and woke up by them, to a terrible ringing of warning bells - bells signaling war. It had taken a moment to realize they were real, and far-off, but far too close for comfort.

Fenris shot out of bed and worked to get into his armor as quickly as possible, remaining calm. It wasn't over, he realized. His years of running had taught him that one thing, that it was never over.


	57. Escape

**Thank you so much to Fallon-Idalia (I'm planning on a sequel actually, haha), Pint-sized She-Bear (haha, it isn't over just yet), Csorciere (Thank you and welcome! A few more chapters to go luckily!) and of course Pint-sized She-Bear (your review on the last chapter almost made ME cry, and I never cry.)**

**You are all so fantastic (even you lurkers! =P), especially for putting up with my recently sporadic updates and the fact that FFNet doesn't always notify you all when a new chapter comes out when it should. *cough* *cough***

**Anyway, the fun isn't over yet. I have a few more chapters to go in this story. I can't believe I'm actually going to finish it. This is one of the only things I've ever written that I'll have finished. As always, I hope you all enjoy.**

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><p>Suddenly all that was was utter chaos. Fenris armed himself as did Astoria and Lysander, who had a thin sword hanging from his hip that almost dragged on the floor. All about them was pandemonium. Bells rang out with a horrifying sound, a frenetic tone like an animal dying. Rebels ran down the corridors shouting orders to each other, their footsteps heavy and panicked. In the darkness, Astoria pushed gently on Fenris' shoulder and he took it as a sign to leave the room.<p>

Fenris stepped into the hallway with his sword readied, shoulders squared. Down the corridor, torches burned low on the stone walls, the wax dripping down their sides to dry. Golden-hued light flickered in the vast emptiness, and it all took his mind somewhere else - to eight years ago when he had been Danarius' slave, fantasizing about another life as he succumbed to his master's every wish and demand, every sick pleasure that the man had wanted. What a different man he had been then.

Fenris shivered at the bizarre memories that lurked in the edge of his consciousness. He was normally so ready, so focused. Why was he so shaken now?

They had to find out what was happening more than anything, before moving onward. Fenris seized Astoria's hand, looked back to make sure that she had Lysander, and then led them down the hall towards the sound of shouting, towards the dining hall.

The bells were deafening, alarming and warning the estate of some threatening force. Could it be a hoax - a disgruntled slave meaning to frighten them all off? It was clear the slaves weren't pleased with the rebels' presence, but Fenris found it hard pressed to believe that any of them would outright defy the rebels. Could it be they were under attack? If so, who would be attacking them? The Asariel guards couldn't know of the attack on Minrathous yet, it was too far away. The fastest messenger wouldn't be able to pass that message along that quickly. It was something else.

They found rebels running in different directions when they found the dining hall, which acted as a bit of a crossroads for the mansion. Men were half-armed, clipping on their gauntlets as they ran. The slaves for the most part watched from a distance, unsure of their uninvited guests and of what was happening. But Fenris saw, knew the fear in their eyes. This wasnt' their doing.

"Something's wrong," Fenris said at the archway leading into the hall. "We should leave."

Astoria nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. "We need to find Varania."

"To the Void with her," Fenris spat, scowling. "She's a grown woman, let her find her own way out."

He noticed Lysander staring at him, and he realized that's not what he should have said. How cold he must seem to Lysander, he wondered. He met eyes with Astoria and sighed. "Very well."

"She has a guest room because of the baby, I can lead the way."

Fenris clenched his jaw and looked around back in the hall. A rebel was running towards their direction to pass by them. Fenris reached out just as the man was about to pass and took him by the collar. "What is happening?"

The man's eyes bulged as he realized who was grabbing him. "We're being attacked," the man sputtered, "by Asariel guards."

"How is that possible? The attack only just happened!"

The man nodded and his eyes darted to Astoria, as if pleading for help. "I don't know! They shouldn't know we're here. But they're already in the front courtyard."

Fenris let go of the man, shoving him forward before looking to Lysander. The boy looked to be on the verge of shaking.

"You're doing great, Lysander," he told him, "stay calm. Everything will be fine." Fenris took a quick breath and glanced around. "Is there a way out through the back?"

Lysander stared at his father for a moment, as if frozen. Astoria squeezed his hand kindly and he seemed to snap out of it. Fenris wondered what the poor child was thinking - did he hate Fenris?

"Yes," Lysander said, his voice thin and fearful. Fenris realized how much work it would be, bringing him back to where a child should be mentally. "At the stables there's a way to climb over and escape."

Fenris nodded and looked at Astoria. "We'll stop for a moment to look for Varania on our way."

She swallowed visibly and sent Lysander a forced smile. "Let's go then."

They were running in seconds, just as a clamor resounded from the far end of the dining hall. The attackers were there, inside, there wasn't a doubt in the world about it. Fenris ran with his hands on his sword, Astoria behind him clutching Lysander in her left hand with a dagger poised defensively in her right. She shouted directions to Fenris as they searched for Varania's room. Around them rebels and some slaves alike rallied for battle while others turned tail and abandoned the estate.

Fenris wasn't ashamed to be running from it. He had run for so long that it wouldn't do him any good anyway, to stay and fight. Besides, it wasn't his fight. His fight was keeping himself, and now them as well, alive and free - and nothing beyond that.

They raced down the hallway, keeping close to the wall as other rebels ran about, chaos all around them. The bells rang with such urgency that it was as if they were screaming for rescue.

In a desperate effort not to find themselves trapped in the mansion, they sprinted as fast as they could, Lysander included, until they found Varania's room. Fenris kicked open the door, only to find it empty.

His gut fell. Where was Varania? It wasn't that he was so much worried for her, but rather that he needed to get away from the estate immediately. They didn't have enough time to look for her, it would only be moments before the Asariel guards burst into the hallways, swords slashing and armor gleaming.

Fenris wheeled around and seized Astoria's arm. "We don't have the time to look for her, she's probably already left."

Astoria looked as if she wanted to argue, but she nodded after a moment. They heard shouting echoing down the stone walls. Fenris shook his head and stepped out into the corridor, slightly out of breath. "Let's go."

He hadn't wanted Lysander to see him act so harsh, but there was no other choice. Their combined safety was more important at the moment than Lysander's impression of his father. Fenris let go of Astoria and they went running, hurtling down the narrow pass of the mansion.

He narrowly missed barreling into a red-headed elven woman whom he thought may have been her, but the woman was older and a bit thicker than Varania. The poor soul, he thought vaguely as he ran - she'd perish or worse here, but they couldn't bring her along. He wasn't the type to risk sacrificing himself for a stranger.

Lysander said nothing as they ran towards the back of the mansion. Fenris glanced back at him and saw the boy's bright forest green eyes so solemn, so full with fear. He was clutching Astoria's hand as if it was the only thing between him and a certain doom, though blood leaked through the bandages on his palms.

They heard yelling behind them, but Fenris didn't look back until he heard a frightened gasp from Lysander. Down the length of the hall, guards from the city were beating down doors and running.

Fenris cursed through his gritted teeth. They were inside the mansion. Suddenly they couldn't run fast enough, their feet carrying them quickly over the cold stones. Surprisingly Lysander could keep up with them without much trouble, a natural runner with youth clearly on his side.

The found the end of the hallway, which hit an adjacent corridor that stretched from west to east. In the center of it, pointing south, was the way to the back courtyard and eventually, hopefully, to their freedom.

Fenris glanced back and saw the guards, some of whom had noticed them and were giving chase. He growled low in his throat, sick of it all for a moment. Sick of running, not just now but sick of all seven years he had been running, hiding, feeling like a powerless coward though he was deadlier than anyone who ever bit at his heels.

His eyes flitted just for a quick second to Astoria's face. At her flushed cheeks, mussed hair and frantic blue eyes and he found the courage to turn and find his feet again. If he was alone, maybe he would accept his fate and surrender. He'd done it before. Maker, he'd even killed people that he liked when confronted, when found. Surrender couldn't be an option now, not when they had come so far to find what they had been searching for.

They kept running. The alarm bells ceased, their incessant ringing dying out - whoever had been ringing them had probably been killed. As they neared the exit, Fenris saw more guards spilling into the hallway from the opposite end. The mansion was overrun with them.

Would they make the exit before the guards? Would they be trapped in? And how else could they get out if they were?

Fenris glanced behind him to make sure they were right behind him - and they were. The guards on the opposite end of the hallway were sprinting towards him, as if they knew they were trying to escape the mansion.

If he hadn't been so wrapped up in the moment, he would've thought he was going to be sick. He pushed his anxiety to the side and charged towards the guards.

"Run out!" He called out, "Go outside, don't wait for me!"

"What?!" Astoria's voice was panicked as they sprinted. They were getting closer to the archway that led to the back courtyard, but so were the guards. Their armor glinted in the torchlight. Their heavy plated boots slammed against the stone.

"Get outside," Fenris growled loud enough for them to hear. And then it was happening.

The guards were roughly an equal distance from the exit as Astoria, Lysander and Fenris. If they all kept running for each other, they'd collide, and no one would make it out alive. There was no choice. Fenris would have to fight them off if anyone was going to escape.

Fenris leaped forward as fast as he could manage. He ignited his markings, bathing the corridor in a blue the shade of a southern autumn sky. The guards' faces fell, their feet skidded to a stop, completely overwhelmed by the surprise of seeing a glowing man sprinting for them wielding a giant sword. It was working, if only for a second.

It was just enough. Fenris swung his heavy blade and cut one man at the collarbone, who fell heavily into another man beside him. Astoria and Lysander were out of the archway, in the courtyard. They had a few feet on him now, and a small part of him in the midst of all the panic, was grateful.

Fenris jumped backwards as the two remaining guards lunged for him, swords and maces and shields waving in a deadly dance of steel and iron. They were relatively untrained by their stances, young by their faces, and foolish. Fenris ducked from the blow of one man's sword and plunged his glowing fist into the man's gut, taking a handful of gore with him and tossing it on the ground. Sometimes there was no better way to destroy a man's morale by plucking out the guts of a fellow soldier like they were feathers. The man sputtered and coughed violently, falling to his knees, eyes void of life.

A shield slammed down into his leg, the one that already had the wound from the previous day. He grunted in pain, blinded momentarily by the agony that coursed through him. He fell back onto his haunches, dropped his sword, and felt the tip of a blade poking his abdomen, just below where his breastplate ended. He was done, he was sure he was done. One quick thrust and he would be beyond help, forever.

The man that had been knocked over by the first man Fenris had hit was on his feet, disgruntled and angry. It was two against one again. Fenris blinked and saw one of the guards pushing the sword further, breaking the fabric of his clothes, painfully digging into his skin. Surely he was drawing blood already.

Fenris fell back further and rolled as quickly as he could, struggling to his feet as fast as he could manage. Before he could stand, the man shoved him into the wall by his shoulder, and Fenris groaned in protest. Agony radiated from his leg, his head hit the stones in the wall.

For a moment, all went black. Then the men were shouting, and rough hands let go of him. There was a ringing of steel, a woman's groan of exertion, the sound of a blade bouncing off the stone wall. He worried for Astoria, for Lysander as he blinked and tried to clear his vision. His bad leg gave out and he tried leaning his weight on the wall, but collapsed.

Moments later, a man's body fell a couple feet from him. Astoria was pulling him to his feet, urging Fenris to stand. He pushed on her shoulders to balance his weight and after several seconds, could see clearly and stand on his own, though favoring his good leg.

Guards were running still from behind them. Fenris steeled himself despite his pain. She had gone back for him, he wouldn't let her forget or regret it. He gathered his sword from the ground and saw Lysander standing in the archway, wielding a sword that looked too heavy for him but he seemed to manage it just fine. His eyes were big and focused on one of the dead men. For the moment, Lysander looked as sad as Fenris often felt.

Fenris stumbled towards him and held out his hand. Lysander looked at it for a moment, and as if realizing the urgency of the situation, took his father's hand. The three of them moved as quickly as they could into the courtyard.

The courtyard was not exempt from the fighting for the moment. There were guards out here as well, cutting down rebels or vice versa. Lysander pointed to the far edge, past the gardens to a small meadow with the stables to the right of them, against the high wall that surrounded the estate.

They moved around the edge, though not hidden. In the courtyard there were around seven guards. Four were busy fighting with rebels or killing slaves. Fenris tried not to look too much. The sun wasn't up yet, a light twilight hung over the land of Tevinter on the first morning after what possibly could have been the biggest attack on the Senate in history. The Imperium would never be the same - either it would be more oppressive or change completely to a place more like the Free Marches.

They crept along the wall, and heard the guards that had been chasing them enter the courtyard, shouting and ordering each other around. Fenris cursed under his breath and stepped around behind Astoria, letting go of Lysander's hand. "Go on ahead, no matter what," he said, planting a kiss on her shoulder. Astoria looked back at him with wide, tearful eyes.

"Fenris?"

There was screaming - a woman's screaming. Fenris saw two guards sprinting towards them from between the sparse trees of the garden. Dread exploded within him, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to fight them both off in his condition.

A whirring, cackling ball of fire appeared out of what he assumed was nothing, slamming into both of the men. Suddenly there were two burning men screaming in anguish. The smelt of fried hair filled the air nearby. Lysander gasped and covered his eyes as Astoria pulled him to her.

Another female scream, and Fenris scanned the courtyard.

It was Varania that had killed those men. It was Varania that had just saved their lives, and he was so quick to abandon her. She clutched a wailing Solara to her chest as a guard stood behind her with a fist in her hair. The guard pushed her to the ground. She wailed and screamed, but above all protected Solara, cradling the baby to her even as the man kicked her in the ribs. It was eerily similar to when he had saved her from being raped when she was just a girl, he remembered.

Lysander wailed upon seeing his beloved aunt in such a condition, and Astoria already had an arrow cocked on the bow by the time Fenris looked at her. Despite what Varania had done to him, he couldn't watch her die at this point, and he wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't out of his own love for her, he knew that. Maybe it was the love Astoria and Lysander had for her, or for the fact that he owed her something for pointing them in the right direction in the search for their son. Maybe he owed her even more for housing them, keeping them safe even as Fenris grew ill in the streets of Minrathous. It would have been the easiest time to give him up to the authorities, and she didn't.

Fenris staggered towards the revolting sight, the guard laughing and looking around him to see if he had an audience. Varania seemed too concerned with shielding Solara to retaliate with her magic. Fenris saw the arrow shoot through the air and then nick the man's arm.

The guard shouted a profanity and looked at his arm before raising his eyes and seeing Fenris coming for him. The guard saw Astoria, and he grimaced, unsheathing his sword and giving Varania a shove with his foot before turning to approach Fenris.

Fenris saw Varania out of the corner of his eye struggle to her feet, clutching a screaming Solara to her. Varania's eyes streamed with tears, she sobbed and limped a few feet away before looking at Fenris. Her familiar green eyes flitted between him and the guard, and she sent a vein of cackling white lightning across the distance between her and the guard. The man fell as she plucked her staff from the ground, leaning on it and casting more electricity at other guards as they charged her and Fenris.

Fenris pierced the guard's neck with his sword before limping away as quickly as he could, taking Varania by the elbow as he moved. They both went, injured and limping, under the limbs of the fruit trees. Fenris quickly let go of her elbow and Varania kept looking her shoulder to see if she needed to shoot another bolt of lightning.

The guards were barking orders at each other with such panic, such anger, that Fenris knew Varania would be a prize if they captured her, because she was a mage. To the guards, she could be a slave that had pretended not to have any magical ability to leech off the magister's studies. If the guards thought that, she could have a public execution. Sedition was always suppressed immediately in Tevinter.

She sent out another round of electricity and fire before they reached Astoria and Lysander. Astoria also had tears in her eyes, and Lysander ran to his aunt and gave her a tight hug. Fenris had no time for this, and he urged them onward.

The moved along the wall though it didn't matter much anymore, a dim-witted guard would spot them a mile away. Solara was screaming and at times Varania couldn't contain her own sobbing.

They neared the stables, and Varania had to fire down two guards before they reached them. His sister was slow, but Fenris would pull her along with no kindness in his eyes. He only had the intention of getting all of them out alive. He expected little more beyond that.

Lysander showed them how to scale the wall. Fenris had to bring a wheelbarrow over and put it beside the stable wall, against the wall around the estate. He looked around him warily.

Could they truly be escaping? Astoria told Varania to go first. Before Fenris could object, Varania had passed Solara to Astoria and was climbing onto the wheelbarrow.

"Do you want to give her a boost or would you like me to?" Astoria asked him, bouncing Solara in her arms. Fenris glared at his sister for a moment and then swore under his breath, moving past Astoria to Varania. He laced his fingers and she put her foot in his hands. Fenris lifted her and she clambered onto the roof of the stables.

Varania could have left them, Fenris realized in that moment. She could have abandoned her child and ran off, jumping over the wall and disappearing into the jungle behind it. But instead she got on her knees and took Solara from Astoria, putting the baby on the roof beside her, and then called for Lysander.

Fenris lifted Lysander from under his arms and Varania, despite her injuries, pulled him up onto the roof with her. Lysander, whose hands were bleeding liberally under his stained bandages, looked beyond them at the rest of the courtyard.

"There's more coming!" He warned, his voice high and filled with fear. Fenris sucked in a breath and helped Astoria onto the wheelbarrow. He laced his fingers again and put his head against her thigh, trying to focus despite the shouting he heard not far off. He lifted her up and Varania helped her onto the ceiling.

At last it was only Fenris. He climbed the wheelbarrow and jumped, grabbing onto the edge of the roof. He threw one arm onto it, grabbing onto the ridges in the roof. He swung his weight and got his good leg onto the roof just as he saw the guards charging at them, not far off. Exhausted, Fenris let Astoria and Varania help him onto the roof fully.

"Hold them off," Fenris commanded Varania, glancing at the guards. One of them was already climbing onto the wheelbarrow. "Astoria, get down over the wall. I'll give you the children."

To his surprise, Varania didn't argue with him. He felt a heat near him as he helped Astoria down over the stone wall. She fell onto the ground about ten feet down, but got back on her feet. Fenris hung Lysander by his wrists so that Astoria could grab him around the waist and lower him.

That was around the time Fenris realized the stables were on fire. It had been Varania's doing, he knew, but it made him have to rush more. At the very least, it had been a good idea because it kept the guards from climbing onto the roof along with them.

Fenris scooped up Solara, who was still wailing and screaming as any baby would be. He sat down on the edge of the wall, straddling it, and held Solara under her arms. Solara screamed and coughed and flailed, but he didn't let her go. Solara couldn't reach her still. Varania was suddenly beside him on the wall, panicking and shaking Fenris' shoulder. It was that moment that he probably could have killed her if he thought he'd lose his balance, but he knew he'd be fine. The heat behind him was making him sweat and he could hear the horses in the stables screaming and whinnying, a haunting sound.

Guards shouted at them, but Fenris almost felt safe. They wouldn't climb a wooden, flaming wall to kill a few slaves. He leaned down as far as he could, but Astoria's hands only reached Solara's legs.

Fenris swore under his breath and shouted down to Astoria, "Catch her!"

Varania protested immediately, lunging for him, but he had already let go. Varania had had the intention of grabbing Solara from him, and when she lost her balance she started to fall and grab onto one of Fenris' thighs.

He gritted his teeth, clenched his jaw, and grabbed onto her. Was he really doing this? Saving Varania? It wasn't a terribly long fall, but it she did fall she'd land on Astoria and Solara, possibly hurting the baby. He held onto her arms but Varania fell anyway, though it happened much more controlled than it would have anyway.

Varania staggered when she landed and cried out in pain as the shock of the fall coursed through her. She was clutching her ribs and curled on the ground. Fenris saw Astoria holding Solara and staring at him, adjusting the baby in her arms to hold a free hand out to him.

He didn't need it. Fenris lowered himself, controlled and slowly, to the ground with only a grunt as he landed.

At that moment, they were out of the estate, as free as they could be. If the situation wasn't so dire, perhaps they could even celebrate. Fenris knew better, though. He had to assess their health and then move, as quickly as they could all manage, to put as much distance between them and all of civilization.

"Are you alright, Lysander?" He asked as Astoria went to help Varania off the ground. Lysander was trembling, his green eyes having a wisdom to them so rare in young children.

"Y- what about Dannis?"

Fenris sucked in a breath. He had forgotten all about Dannis, the man that had kept Lysander safe for the past two and a half years. But there was no way to go back into the estate without going through the front gate, even if he wanted to. "Dannis knows the estate better than you, he's a skilled, smart man. He'll be fine." And Fenris knew he was telling the truth. Lysander didn't seem so convinced, but they didn't have time for any more reassurance.

Fenris found himself staring at the bloodied bandages, at the markings that wove around Lysander's arms and neck, in a different but similar fashion to Fenris'.

"Come, let's go," Fenris heard Astoria say, her voice a higher pitch with panic. Varania was on her feet, gasping for breath as she held Solara to her chest and wept.

This time Fenris hung in the back. Astoria, because she was skilled as an archer, was in the front, with Varania, Solara and Lysander in between them. Fenris constantly glanced over his shoulder, but no one seemed to be giving pursuit. It didn't make him check any less, however.

The five of them moved through the jungle as quickly as they could manage with their injuries as the sun rose above some unseen horizon, lighting up a new day for the Imperium. It was hours before Solara stopped crying, hours before they stopped even for a drink of water from a stream spilling out into the ocean. Midday brought with it a heat that Fenris was not unfamiliar with, and fatigue caught up with them all.

Fenris, Astoria and Varania had been on the road for over a week straight, and Fenris and Astoria with only sporadic breaks for months before that. When they found a quiet and shaded grove, Fenris was too exhausted to care if they all stopped for the night. They had been walking since before dawn, they could stop before it grew dark.

After Astoria slipped off silently through the trees to hunt, Varania settled at the base of a banyan and rocked Solara to sleep. Lysander was sitting by a narrow stream, unwrapping the bandages on his hands. Fenris took a long breath. He had been avoiding Lysander - but it was out of discomfort, out of not knowing what exactly to say to him.

Fenris swallowed and flattened his palms out against the black cloth of his leggings, which had been ripping in various battles and fights. He needed to replace much of what he wore, he realized. Fenris noticed Varania watching him from beneath the low hanging, veiny limbs of the banyan. He decided not to scowl at her as he moved towards Lysander and sat down beside him.

The boy went relatively still, his left hand seemingly frozen while his other hand held the bloodied, dried bandages. Two pairs of bright green eyes, both almond shaped and equally solemn, met across the small distance. Fenris cleared his throat and folded his legs, resting his elbows on his knees and threading his fingers together.

He had no notion of what to say to Lysander, no knowledge. He had thought about it several times in the past few months, more so as he gained trust in Astoria. But whatever he had rehearsed had fallen apart the moment he saw Lysander. There was no preparing for such moments.

"Varania can heal your hands if they hurt you," Fenris said levelly, unsure of how else to begin. Lysander continued what he had been doing, unwrapping the soiled bandages from his hands. Fenris studied the boy's palms, seeing how the skin at the edges of the markings cracked and bled, remembering that he himself had had similar injuries all over his body.

"Dannis told me to embrace pain," Lysander murmured, moving to kneel and clean his wounded hands in the stream. Fenris nodded.

"I am sorry that we left him."

Lysander glanced at Fenris over his narrow shoulder and then turned back to his hands. Flecks of dried blood came off in the water and went downstream. Fenris watched the boy - his nervous, shaking hands and the black lyrium markings etched into his skin all over, wrapping around his legs and arms like clinging vines.

"He and I had a very long talk yesterday," Fenris explained quietly. "I'm glad that you've had him in your life. He's a good man."

Lysander stilled, and Fenris wondered if he'd cry. But he didn't. A moment passed in the hot jungle.

"You didn't think anyone would come for you, did you?" Fenris wondered. His shoulders lifted and fell in a long sigh as he saw Lysander nod his head, his black, wavy hair falling over his forehead.

Lysander fell back on his heels and looked at his hands, still with dirt under the fingernails, but most of the blood was gone. "I heard you were a slave."

"I was, yes," Fenris admitted. "I escaped my master seven years ago. He erased my memory. A year and a half ago I killed him, and your mother only found me about six months ago. It all would have been different if I had remembered."

Fenris glanced to his side and saw Varania staring at him in something akin to fear. She always looked like a trapped mouse before a cat.

Lysander nodded and then looked over his shoulder at his father. "And you freed my mother?"

Fenris nodded, but it felt somewhat wrong to take credit for something he could only partially recall. "I did."

"How..." Lysander began, then stopped when he seemed puzzled by his own thoughts for a moment, "Why... why do some men do good things and other men do bad things?"

Fenris opened his mouth to answer, but had nothing to say. Instead, he chuckled once and then gave his son the slightest grin. "All men do things that are bad and good. No one is free from that." _Except blood mages and magisters,_ he thought to add.

Lysander seemed to relax a bit. The tension in his shoulders fell away, and his frown lessened. The boy stood and tightened his belt before rolling up his trousers to his knees. Lysander stepped into the water and looked at Fenris.

"How did you escape?"

Fenris leaned back on his palms and tried to think of the most child-friendly way to explain his story. "My master brought me to Seheron. While there, the city we were in was under attack. He got on a ship, I didn't because there wasn't any room for slaves, and I was injured. Long story short after that, he came looking for me, found me, but he was injured and couldn't follow me."

Lysander's eyes widened in curiosity, in awe perhaps.

"Why? Have you tried running away?"

He looked down sheepishly at the river and at his hands, before bending down to run his fingers in the water. "I wanted to, but Dannis wouldn't let me. He said we'd leave together if we left. But I don't think he ever wanted to."

Fenris pressed his lips together tight and considered this. Most slaves didn't hope for freedom, from his experience, because they knew nothing else. But Lysander was not completely hopeless - he could remember being free, could remember the embrace of his mother and the taste of good food. Lysander still had some fight in him. It was a gift in itself.

"It's a shame that you were a slave for a time with that name," Fenris noted. "'_He who is freed._' Again."

Lysander laughed at the little joke and then sat on the bank of the river, keeping his feet in the water. "What does your name mean?"

"Fenris isn't my real name, but I believe it means something along the lines of 'little wolf.'"

"I like it."

Fenris nodded and rubbed some dirt off his gauntlets. He was glad to at least be having a conversation with the boy, though he had never felt so pressured to say the right thing before in his life.

"Is your real name 'Leto?'"

Fenris arched an eyebrow, looking up at Lysander. "Your mother never told you?"

Lysander shrugged. "She did a couple times. She was the only one that would talk about you. It always made Nana and Auntie so sad, and I didn't want to make them cry."

His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed hard and scratched behind his neck, thinking. "It is my real name."

"What does it mean?"

"_He who is always happy_."

Lysander cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at his father. "You don't look happy."

Fenris chuckled, the small laugh that could only come from someone that had been so broken once. "It is not my name any longer."

Lysander bit his bottom lip like his mother does and looked around at the jungle around them. "Mother says you're a good warrior. And you killed... all those people."

Fenris dipped his chin, a feeling of guilt swimming through his veins. Lysander saw him kill at least three men in the past two days alone. Did Lysander think that Fenris was a bad man, for all that he'd done? Was he disgusted by his deeds or in awe of him?

"I only kill those that wish me harm, Lysander, no more."

The boy stepped out of the stream and looked at his hands and the wounds on them. "Can you teach me how to be... as good as you?"

Fenris held his composure, his brow softening as he gave a simple nod. "If you wish. When your markings heal."

Lysander stared at his father and for a moment the boy looked frightened. "Do yours hurt too?"

He nodded again. "But not the way they used to. For you, they'll hurt for now, and then with time they'll ache and be sore. Eventually, you'll ignore it." It was the sad truth, but it didn't look to be anything Lysander didn't expect by his reaction. Lysander's little shoulders sagged as he sighed.

"I don't want them."

The corner of Fenris' lip curled up in a slight smirk, he wondered if Lysander was really so much alike him. "Neither do I. But they have served me well."

Lysander frowned. "What does it feel like for you?"

"What?"

"I saw you... put your hand in two men," Lysander recalled, clasping his wounded hands in front of him and twiddling his thumbs nervously. He looked at his father beneath a few rogue strands of black hair.

Fenris sighed and got to his feet. "When you know what you're touching... it isn't a pleasant feeling."

Lysander furrowed his brow and then nodded. Then he looked at Varania, who was watching the exchange from the base of the banyan, her eyes alight with curiosity. She smiled, and Fenris wondered if she was mocking him and his inability to talk to a child. He ignored it and looked back at Lysander.

"Mother says you have a lot of stories," Lysander began quietly, peeking at Fenris. "She says you met a famous witch and went into a place called the Deep Roads."

Fenris snorted in amusement. Apparently Astoria had told Lysander much when he had been talking with Dannis. "Why? Would you like to hear a story?"

Lysander's green eyes lit up like morning sunlight on dewy grass as he shook his head fervidly and wrung out his hands.

Fenris patted the ground beside him. "Very well. I'll tell you about the time I found a High Dragon."


	58. Scouting

**Hello all! A big thank you to everyone - Fallon Idalia, Pint-sized She-Bear, csorciere! You and everyone else who has been reading is/are amazing! Thank you for sticking along. =)**

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><p>The fire cackled like a man laughing at a raunchy joke, snapping and breaking the wood in the ring of stones. No matter how wet from the rains the wood was, Varania's magic could keep the fire burning bright and hot. It was the only thing Fenris appreciated that she brought to the table. But his disgust for her was fizzling out slowly nonetheless.<p>

Currently, Lysander and Solara slept close to each other in a crevice between the roots of a tree that Fenris didn't recognize. Astoria sat beside Fenris, running a whetstone over the blades of her daggers hypnotically, focused in her own little trance._ Good,_ he thought. She needed the detachment from reality, if only for a little while.

Varania sat leaning against a tree opposite of him, using healing magic to soothe her sore feet. Varania was not the adventurer or traveler that he was. Since meeting her again, he had learned that she fell flat in many things she tried to do, mostly all of them except for magic. She had no confidence in herself either, which only made her more pitiful in the end. Astoria tried showing her how to shoot a bow, but it was futile. She was a failure at everything except motherhood, art and her curse, magic. He wondered how she could live with herself sometimes.

"One of us needs to go into Asariel," Astoria said out of nowhere that night. For a moment all that could be heard was the cracking in the fire. Fenris turned his head and stared at her. They might as well call it the_ Lion's Den_ - the only more dangerous place for them to be would be Minrathous.

"Why?"

"Hunter," she said. The orange glow of the fire lit up her features and danced in her eyes. "Hunter said he was going ahead to secure passage. There is nothing between Asariel and Minrathous but jungle, fields and farms. Asariel is the only place... he may have a way for us to get out of the Imperium."

Varania watched them quietly, pausing her healing to listen.

"It's safer to cross the Plains," Fenris replied.

"How many rebels in Eshan's company died crossing the Plains?" Astoria asked him. "You and I could do it easily, but we have more mouths to feed now." Astoria gestured towards Lysander, Varania and Solara. Fenris scoffed.

"I fail to see how they are our responsibility."

Varania shifted her gaze away and Astoria sighed, moving on. "We can trust Hunter. If he's made it to Asariel, there should be a way out."

Fenris frowned and grasped his knees, trying to think of a rebuttal but ultimately falling short. It had been strange to him that Hunter would leave before them to go ahead and 'secure passage.' Hunter, however, was an official - a Templar. While he was out of his own jurisdiction, being a Templar of Kirkwall, he couldn't exactly go along with them to raid Valinius' mansion. He could be excommunicated if discovered. It had been in his own best interest to leave them early, but how safe would he really be having any associations with them?

"Very well," Fenris allowed after some thought. "Who shall go?"

Astoria glanced at Varania, who watched them in curious silence, and then shrugged. "I will go."

"No," Fenris argued immediately. "You can't go in there alone -"

"Why? Fenris, you can't go in because your markings are too noticeable. Varania, you can't go because you're an elven woman. Who knows what could happen to you in there. Especially since the city knows that Valinius' was raided and then attacked by the guards. They'll be looking for anyone who may have escaped Valinius'. I'm sorry, but since I'm a human... it isn't as likely that I'm a slave. I'll go in alone. Since he's my brother, I can say that I was traveling with him."

Fenris put his head in his hands and sighed, a long and exhausted sigh. He then shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. "It's too dangerous. We should keep going, to Marnus Pell at least."

"I'm going to scout it out," Astoria told him softly, having made up her mind. "If Hunter isn't in the city, we'll keep going."

He hated the idea of staying behind while she went into Asariel - which would be a hot zone and a place waiting for disaster. The city would be alive with rumors about rebels attacking the estates of local magisters, and of the retaliation of the guards. Perhaps she would find out how the guards learned of their attack.

"What if a guard recognizes you?" Varania asked, her frail body seeming so fragile and bony in the night.

"They won't," Astoria answered, "we killed all the ones that saw us."

"Not the guards at the end, when we escaped," Fenris pointed out. "They saw us."

"I was the first one over the wall. If they saw me, it was only for a few seconds."

He stood up in his frustration and walked off, into the trees towards the ocean. If he stayed there any longer, he'd be raising his voice in no time. He couldn't stand the thought of letting her go off into that city, not so soon after the attack. And what if news of the Senate attack reached the city while she was in there, and the city became besieged? Small acts of sedition were suppressed with extreme violence. When the rest of the Imperium learns of the attack on the Senate... how would they react?

Fenris walked in the direction of the ocean, following the sound of the waves crashing and breaking on the sand. In such a place, the stars were easily visible, glittering against the black of the sky. The moon was only a thin crescent, but in the openness of the shore, he could see vague things in the dark - the outline of the shore and the treeline, the lights of Asariel flickering to the north.

The sand muffled her footsteps. She couldn't have gone up to him in complete silence if she didn't say his name.

"Fenris?"

He shifted slightly, looking over his shoulder. He could only see her because of the dim light on her skin framed by her dark hair.

"There will be nothing I can do if you get in trouble," Fenris growled, frustrated. He turned to face her and threw up his hands.

"I won't get in trouble," she replied softly, stepping towards him and putting her palms on his arms gently. He glared at her in the darkness, having half a mind to shrug out of her reach and half a heart not to. "Nothing will happen. If I'm not out of the city by sundown, send Varania in."

"I'd rather go in myself."

Astoria sighed. "If you insist. But... if something should happen to us both..."

He saw her point. "Let me go in, alone. I know I'm more conspicuous than you are, but I have less to lose."

Astoria scoffed, and he realized what he had said.

"I mean that Lysander remembers you - he needs you more than he needs me. I'll go in. I'll-"

"What - Maker, forbid - what will you do if you fall ill in the city?" Astoria asked, and her voice, her question, cut him like a knife. There was no way he could justify going in now.

Fenris winced and turned away, moving out of her reach. "Fine. Go if you must."

He hated being helpless against it, against his sudden illnesses. When would they end? It had been roughly two weeks since his last incident, and rightfully he'd be due for another onset soon. He couldn't risk it.

"I'm sorry, Fenris."

He didn't reply, only crossed his arms and stared at the expanse of the dark sea before them. He felt rather than saw Astoria move to stand beside him.

"Spar with me," she said after a moment.

Fenris clenched his jaw and gazed ahead, watching the pale moonlight glint off the water like millions of dim stars on the surface of the ocean. Beneath his toes the sand was cool and smooth.

Astoria smacked his arm playfully, not hard enough to cause any sort of pain. Fenris groaned. "I'm not... Astoria, I am not happy."

She splayed her fingers on his arm, smoothing out over the exposed skin above his elbow. It was easy for him to be vocal with her, he was vocal with everyone. However, his objections rarely went beyond words. Even in Kirkwall, he disagreed with some things that Anders, Merrill and Hawke did, but he would never get in their way or do anything to intervene. Just as he would do nothing now.

"There's no other choice," Astoria said softly, leaning in and kissing the armor on his shoulder. She was right, he knew. He couldn't go into Asariel, he was too recognizable. Varania couldn't - if her pointed ears didn't give her away as a slave, her demure demeanor sure would. It left Astoria, who had the luck to be born a human and had a personality that didn't categorize her as a slave.

Fenris sighed and gave up. What could he do?

"What will you do if you're caught?" Fenris snapped.

Astoria frowned. "I'll do everything I can. I avoided capture for nine years."

"When they came for Lysander they easily could have taken you as well. You know that," he growled. A moment passed, and he threw up his hands again in frustration. "Bah."

Astoria stepped closer to him and scratched gently along his back. He unfolded his arms and let her in, let her rest her head on his steel-plated chest. The waves beat against the cool sands of the shore, the lights of Asariel flickered like golden stars, a breeze swept over them from the ocean.

Fenris ran his hand over Astoria's back, hooking his fingers over the hem of her leggings. He ran his thumb over the small of her back and settled himself, not wanting to argue anymore.

"Promise me you'll be careful and come back," he murmured. "I can't bear the thought of us failing after all that's happened."

"I will, I promise," Astoria said, sounding to be on the verge of tears.

Fenris sighed and splayed his fingers out on her back, running it up her spine, underneath her shirt. She was warm and smooth underneath his palm, something so nice to touch.

"What do you think of Lysander? I haven't talked to you alone since we've been on the road." She asked softly, just above a whisper.

He opened his mouth and for a moment had nothing to say. "He's... I like him." He tilted his head slightly and the corner of his lip curled slightly. "You were correct, he does look like me."

Astoria sniffled and then laughed. "Of course he does." She hugged him around the waist and smiled. "I think he admires you."

Fenris snorted. "I think he's disgusted by me."

"What? How so?"

"I think I frighten him. I frighten most children. Except for that blond girl from Tantervale."

Astoria chuckled. "You don't frighten Lysander. When he looks at you, I think he sees himself. But I'm not sure if he can have that much insight at nine years old."

Fenris turned his head and pressed his cheek on the top of Astoria's hair. "It's strange to see another like me. Markings and all. They hurt him, you know."

She lifted her head to look at him in the dim moonlight. "Do they? He told me they didn't."

Fenris furrowed his brow. "I don't think he wants you to worry."

She nodded and stood on her toes to kiss his neck. Fenris let out a breath and ran a hand on her shoulder, his fingers reaching under her shirt. He gently pushed the material off so it hung off her arm.

"And you're still planning on... staying?" Astoria wondered, her nails gliding along the fabric on his tunic and down his sides.

"If I am welcome," Fenris explained. "I know that you have thought about moving on from me."

Astoria frowned. "It's crossed my mind a few times these past several years... but I know I could never love anyone. If I were to find another, it'd be for protection and security."

That was the truth of it. Fenris had known it before, but it stung a bit to hear. Not that he could blame her.

Fenris sighed and cocked his head, watching her thoughtfully. "We could make it, could we not?"

"We could."

Fenris nodded once and kissed her forehead. "Then I will go with you." He rested his chin on top of her head and shut his eyes.

Astoria smiled, her cheek pressed against the cold metal of his breastplate. She took a long, shaky breath and locked her fingers together on his back.

"And you... how are you doing?" Fenris asked her. "You have what you wanted."

She chuckled. "I do. It's the greatest feeling in the world," she explained, sounding honest. "But I know it's balancing on the edge of a blade."

"It is."

"And there's a lot of work to be done with Lysander. We need to get him out of a war-zone if we plan on him healing."

Fenris hummed affirmatively. "I don't think he's as broken as you may believe."

Astoria chuckled. "I know he isn't. He's strong, like you."

"You are no different," Fenris told her. "You are a great mother. And a finer woman I have never met."

Astoria grinned against his breastplate and then looked up at him, the way his unkempt white hair seemed to almost shine so pale in the light of the moon. "Flatterer."

"Never," he replied and moved his hands so he cupped her face. Fenris touched his lips to hers and kissed her, biting at her mouth when she breathed out in something between relief and arousal. All that she deserved, he was sure he couldn't give her. She deserved more than him, a better man than he who could completely control his anger, a man with more money and more to give her. But what exactly did that leave for him to deserve?

Astoria worked to unbuckle the parts of his armor, starting with his breastplate. She discarded the steel, and it fell heavily into the sand. Her hands moved to the hard shell of material that encased his shoulders and part of his back, before finally to his complicated belt. Fenris did little but push her hair over her shoulders and trace her skin, her collarbone and neck.

It felt nice for her to be acting almost desperately over him. He didn't feel like the only one who needed this. He felt _wanted_. Despite his imperfections, despite all that he was - she still wanted_ him_. Such a curious feeling it was, but he could never imagine wanting it any other way. It was so easy to see her as his wife when they were like this with each other.

Astoria had him out of his tunic in a moment, and Fenris seized her shoulders and suddenly they were both on the ground, landing with a dull thud against in the sand. He rolled onto her, easing her legs open with his knee before working on her leggings and pulling them down past her ankles. His fingers skimmed the long-healed burn on her heel and the nicks and scars she had acquired over the years. Fenris trailed several kisses up her thigh, his own fingers splayed on her stomach with slight pressure.

A simple arch of her back, the way her breath slipped out of her, the way her chest heaved in anticipating. All these things he reveled in. Even just after release, it was the small things such as that that he held so dear in his memories.

They had been so close, so many times, to capture. Fenris reflected on it as he kissed the stretchmarks that Lysander had given her - all evidence of a life he had been a part of. Astoria's fingers trailed along the skin of his shoulder, absent of mind and tracing his markings. Fenris shut his eyes and wondered if something would happen the next day - what if she was captured? What if she left? She never would, he knew, but still...

The hand that was on her stomach moved towards her thighs, stopping at her center while he moved his mouth up towards her own. He ran his teeth along the sensitive skin of her breast and up her neck, sighing against her ear while his fingers brushed against her sex, hinting at something.

Astoria ran her palms down his sides, his corded and lean body as she arched further, inviting him closer. Fenris moved his hand away from her center and arrested her thigh, pressing it to his hip so it would rub against the wound on his leg. Astoria lifted her head and kissed his neck, smiling when he hummed his approval.

Astoria pushed on his shoulders suddenly and rolled with him, laughing as she straddled him, awkwardly keeping her leg away from his wound. She leaned forward and kissed under his jaw, along his shoulder, down his chest. Her fingers unlaced his breeches and she pushed them down past his rear. Fenris ran his hands up her arms and pulled her closer to him as she lowered herself onto him and bit out a moan.

Fenris sucked in a breath and held her there while she took a moment to regain herself. Then Astoria began to move, and he found himself lost in the feeling of her. His palms rested on her hips, moving with her. From his point of view, it was interesting to see the dim moonlight on her naked form, the glittering stars watching from their perches in the sky.

It was a time before Fenris began guiding her hips more aggressively; moving her faster on top of him. They both found their release before long; gasping and trembling, dizzy with ecstasy. Fenris was breathless as Astoria went limp on his chest.

They wandered back to the camp soon after, and Varania only smirked when they entered and collapsed in a small ditch. Sleep came easily that night to everyone but Fenris. Even as exhausted as he was, he couldn't shake the thought of bad things to come.

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><p>"What's wrong?" Lysander's young voice intruded Fenris' thoughts the next afternoon as he tossed firewood onto a meager pile. With the rains, all the wood was wet, but Varania's magic could keep the fire burning nonetheless.<p>

Fenris furrowed his brow and looked at his son as he wiped his hands on his leggings. "Nothing is wrong. Why?"

"You seem angry," Lysander said as he dangled a string of pebbles in front of Solara, who sat balanced precariously on the black soil of their camp.

"I think he misses your mother," Varania said, butting in. Fenris turned to her and noticed how tired she looked. Her copper hair, straight like his own, hung in unkempt locks on her narrow shoulders. Her skin had been burned by the sun so she sat in the shade, looking uncomfortable.

He scowled and turned away, but not before Lysander noticed. Solara screeched in laughter as she caught the string of pebbles in her clumsy fingers. Fenris ruffled Lysander's hair as he passed by the boy. He had been making an effort to get closer with his son - trying to joke with him, show him things. Fenris even was able to take a look at Lysander's injured hands. He knew he couldn't conquer that mountain in a day, but every little bit would count, he was sure.

Lysander went with him to the beach, to see if anything of Asariel could be seen. Fenris half-expected the city to be in flames, great pillars of smoke billowing over the sea. But there was no such indication of any danger that Astoria would be in. It made the time pass by more quickly.

Not long after, Fenris sat against a tree and sharpened his great sword with a whetstone while Varania was off picking fruit. He had watched Solara, who had slept the entire time, and Lysander - who had practiced with his sword against a tree even though he didn't have to. Fenris watched intently and commented on Lysander's form and technique, praising him where appropriate. He knew he should have gone with Varania for protection, but she hadn't asked, and he hadn't offered. Still, he was surprised at the small relief of her timid footsteps coming back into the campsite.

"How was she?" Varania asked as she took a few steps towards Fenris and looked at Solara on the ground, sleeping peacefully in the soft earth.

"Fine," Fenris answered bluntly, "she slept the entire time."

Varania smiled and scooped up her child in her arms, making soothing and motherly cooing noises to the baby as she moved to sit opposite of Fenris.

There was such a stark difference between the woman he saw now and the one that had trapped him in a room with Danarius less than two years ago. Fenris couldn't decide how to feel about her, despite her taking him in when he was ill and giving Astoria precious information, and potentially saving their lives when they tried escaping Valinius'.

Fenris looked down and ran the whetstone over the blade, trying to detach himself from the moment. It was something he was exceptional at when he was a slave.

But Varania didn't let him get there. Her voice brought him back to reality. "Have you been doing that the entire time?"

When he lifted his gaze, he saw that she was more curious than anything, though he wasn't sure why he was expecting something else. What would she know about swords anyway?

"Yes," he replied curtly.

"I think she likes the sound," Varania said, her voice filled with interest.

His green eyes shifted to look at the baby, who was now not only awake but looking around with her wide, curious eyes. He paused the whetstone and her expression changed to one of more dismay. Fenris suppressed a slight chuckle. Even Lysander stopped and turned to watch.

"Keep going, please," Varania asked.

He did, and he even laughed when Solara's expression changed again. The baby was fascinated, and when Varania put her down, Solara stared at him, completely enthralled.

"Her father..." Varania began, then corrected herself, "the man who I loved, rather... was an apprentice weapon smith."

Fenris furrowed his brow. "A free man, then."

Varania nodded, her eyes void of any happiness.

"So how did Danarius kill him?"

Varania swallowed and her trembling fingers smoothed her dress out over her legs. "It was a blood magic ritual. Danarius told me that he'd kill him when we got back if he didn't have you in custody. If you did come back with us, he'd let Thomas live."

Fenris ran the whetstone along the blade with a bit more force than intended.

"I didn't know that he had already killed Thomas before we even left for Kirkwall." Varania shook, her tiny frame trembling with the memory. Fenris watched her cave in on herself, wondering if maybe killing her would have done her a favor so long ago.

He could hear the sound of Lysander's blade whacking against the bark of the banyan tree, the cicadas and tropical birds in the trees. But nothing was quite so unsettling as Varania's crying.

When she told him that he had received the better end of the bargain, perhaps she had been correct. He felt shame blooming within him. What right did he have to be so cruel? But he couldn't find it within himself to be kind to her - not when she so willingly sacrificed him.

"I am sorry that happened to you," Fenris said, and he meant it. Danarius never would have been in any of their lives if it hadn't been for him, neither would Valinius. It seemed like the only person whose life he didn't ruin was his mother.

"Th - thank you," Varania said, sniffling.

Would he had done the same thing, he wondered? He likely would have, and when he realized this he chose to be a bit kinder to her.

"What will you do now?" He asked, trying not to sound too cold.

Varania shrugged her shoulders and looked blankly at Solara. "I don't know. If I'm frugal with everything else, I should have enough money to get out of the Imperium and find work somewhere."

Fenris nodded and shifted his gaze to Lysander, who was still practicing though the wounds on his hands were probably open again. The child was so used to practicing for twelve hours a day that he seemed not to know how else to fill his time.

"Astoria told me that you two visited mother's grave on your way to Minrathous," Varania said after a moment.

He grew tense in his shoulders but took a breath to settle himself. "We did, yes."

Varania nodded and leaned against the trunk of the tree behind her. "That was nice of you. It would have made her happy. Do you remember her?"

He dipped his chin and glanced at Lysander. "I do - but only as parts of my other memories."

She pressed her lips together and seemed to relax a bit now that they had moved on from the topic of her lover. Fenris stood and strapped his sword to his back.

"I'm going to go wait for her," he said coolly.

Varania's eyes went wide. "What if she doesn't come out of the city tonight?"

He scowled at the thought of it. "We'll see. Lysander, I'll be back."

Two pairs of green eyes met and Lysander jumped forwards. "Can I come with you?"

"Er..." Fenris thought, pausing beside a tree. If he took Lysander with him, Varania would be alone in the forest with Solara. If Fenris had to go into the city, he wouldn't want Lysander to witness anything traumatic, especially if something happened to Astoria.

"No," he answered. "I might go into the city if I'm waiting too long, and I don't want you going in there right now."

Lysander frowned.

"Besides," Fenris added, "You need to stay and protect your aunt from wild animals."

The important task seemed to cheer him up. Fenris looked at Varania sternly. "Don't move," he told her before stalking off towards the north, towards Asariel. He crept through the forest, ducking under branches, stepping around trees and bushes.

He went to the treeline and sat in the crevices of a banyan, watching Asariel - one of the great, walled cities of the north. The massive walls had decayed over the years, and even slaves did not repair them any longer - replacing the men who died from repairing it was too expensive for the city. Like most of the Imperium, the city was a miserable shadow of what it once was.

Sitting there watching and waiting was a horrible idea, for Fenris grew anxious and worrisome. His blade was sharp enough as it was, which left him little else to do. Fenris dug into one of his pouches and found the stack of drawings and letters that Astoria had given him when he first met her.

He remembered how he had acted that day, wondered how he could have made a better impression. He smirked at the thought... wondering what he would have said if someone told him that he'd be making love to her not six months later. That he'd remember her, such an essential part of a life he assumed was dead and buried and would never return to his thoughts. It was all so impossible, and yet, it wasn't.

Fenris flipped to the intimate drawing of her and him, laying on a cot. The young man in the drawing stared at her with such love in his big eyes, it had Fenris wondering if that's how he looked at Astoria now. Did she think he loved her now? Should he say it?

Fenris exhaled long and slow and folded up the drawing, frowning at the way its edges were deteriorating so. He shuffled the drawings in the pile and then found Lysander's birth certificate. His birthday would be in seventeen days. Where would they be, he wondered? In the Silent Plains, praying for rain and burning under the hot sun? Arrested for their crimes, starving in a dungeon? Dead?

He quickly put the stack of vellum in his pack and peered at the city in front of him. He could see some figures going into the city and others coming out, but few were taking the road south; and none were her. His mind wandered to dark places before long. He imagined all the awful things that could happen. She was recognized, she was arrested, she was murdered, raped, assaulted, she was being accused of treason, she was being tortured. It all ran through his mind, along with the consequences for whatever his action would be, along with all the ways that it could effect Lysander.

Fenris glanced at his sword and decided against charging into the city by himself. Instead, he gripped his thighs and tried to focus on something else.

The sun was dipping ever so long into the west, casting a bright golden light on the surrounding walls of the city. Asariel stood; more beautiful in the blazing light than normal, the last city before Minrathous. If Asariel knew anything of the coup in Minrathous, nothing gave it away. No guards rushed from the city, no messengers pushed their horses to near-death leaving or arriving, no bells rang and no horns bellowed.

He waited and the minutes seemed like an eternity. People entered and left the city, with no sign of Astoria. Fenris scraped the dirt and dried blood off his gauntlets in his boredom, being thorough with the crevices and hinges. But nothing took his mind off of it all.

As twilight fell upon Tevinter, Fenris got to his feet and donned his black cloak, being sure to let the hood hang low over his face, covering his eyes and pulling the scarf around his neck and chin. As much as he hated anything restricting his neck, he knew it was a necessary evil if he wanted to stay safe. He strapped his sword to his back and pulled his cloak around him so that his arms wouldn't show to anyone he passed.

When he reached the road he stuck to the edge of it. Even still, others gave him a wide berth. Apparently he looked as menacing and baleful as he had meant to. He kept a small knife on his belt, more of a throwing knife than anything, that he could reach and flick with little movement. Even that, along with his great sword and just the knowledge that he was a living, breathing weapon - it did not soothe him at all. His heart raced, hammering in his chest, his palms felt clammy to himself.

But it was the hostility he felt, that was coupled with everything - the fear, the determination, the anxiety - that drove him forward. What if the worst_ had_ happened? His imagination ran wild into dark places. He imagined men seizing her, hurting her, forcing themselves on her when she was caught for treason and recognized by the guards. What did they do to her?

He obsessed over it, almost trance-like as he marched towards Asariel, until he heard a voice.

"Fenris?"

He froze and spun on his heel, his black cloak whirling with the turning. It couldn't be her, could it?

In the dark twilight, less than half a mile from the city gates, he stood and stared from under his hood. It was her.

Astoria stood as more a silhouette than anything, roughly ten feet from him. He had passed her on the road, but she had stopped, recognizing him.

"Fenris?" She asked again, uncertain. He glanced around and nodded.

"It is me."

Her shoulders fell in relief. "Oh, thank the Maker. I think I'm being followed."

When it registered, he moved towards her and turned, looking towards the direction she came from.

"By who?" It was too dark at this point to see anything far from them, and Astoria wasn't carrying a torch.

"I don't know," she said, sounding nervous. "I noticed him in Asariel. He's hooded, but he carries a shield."

Fenris furrowed his brow. "He's still following you?"

"I believe so." Astoria reached out and snaked her hand under his cloak, resting on his arm. "Fenris, let's run, come on."

"No, I'm not running from one man," he said. "You didn't see his face?"

"No."

Fenris clenched his jaw and balled his fists, staring down the road, but unable to see far. "Stay with me, or run back to Varania."

"I'll stay with you. I didn't want to confront him in the city - in case he was a guard from the estate."

Fenris reached behind him and drew his sword, stepping silently towards the city. His relief almost left him shaking - that things had not been worse. One man he could deal with, and Astoria didn't seem harmed.

He tried to focus on the darkness ahead of him while Astoria walked beside with her bow readied to strike someone down.

Fenris saw a figure, the outline of someone. A man. Astoria stepped forward and sucked in a breath.

"That's him," she whispered. Fenris set his jaw and tightened his grip just slightly on his sword.

"Who goes there?" He demanded to know, squaring his shoulders and squinting in the dark. The figure paused, and retreated slowly with his arms up.

"Who's asking?"

"Fasta vaas," Fenris growled. "I'll have your name and purpose first, or I'll tear out your throat. Your choice."

The man took a step forward, and in the dark Fenris could hardly see him remove his hood.

"Dannis is my name," answered the man, taking another step forward. Fenris froze and heard Astoria give a small gasp.

"Why have you been following me?" Astoria asked, without any venom in her tone.

"I saw you outside of the Chantry today. I followed you to see what happened to Lysander."

Fenris lowered his sword and glanced at Astoria.

"Why would it matter to you?" She bit back at him.

"I've spent two and a half years with him. He means much to me."

"Why would you follow me in secret?"

Dannis stepped closer, and finally Fenris could see him just barely in the light of the lamppost behind him.

"Rest assured I never wanted to make you uncomfortable," Dannis explained with his palms out, asking for peace. "I only wanted to make sure Lysander was safe."

"Bullshit," Astoria said. "You were seeing where we were going so you could tell Valinius. So you could keep your job, right? Or you wanted to take him, bring him to the magister -"

"Valinius is probably dead by now," Dannis replied, frustrated. "And it is of no matter anyway. I've already written a letter to him saying that Lysander was killed in the attack by the rebels."

Astoria didn't relax at all, but Fenris knew Dannis better. He had spent hours talking with him just days before, learning all he could about his own markings and getting a detailed description of all that Dannis knew regarding his son and himself.

"I made no mention of you both in the letter." Dannis explained further, gesturing with his hands as if to prove his point. "If he's alive, he'll only see that rebels attacked."

"How did you escape?" Fenris wondered, strapping his sword onto his back again.

Dannis furrowed his brow at Fenris. "Most magisters have a secret tunnel that leads from their chambers to the outside - it is well hidden and supposed to provide escape in emergencies. You know well that there have been many uprisings where slaves have killed their masters."

Astoria looked at Fenris and upon seeing his more calm demeanor, she relaxed herself. Then she shot Dannis a glaring look. "I still don't believe you."

Dannis sighed. "I assure you my dear lady, I've only wanted to make sure the boy was alright. There are people who would turn in your son for money. Parents of their own children would even do so."

Ah, now Fenris understood. Dannis suspected them of conspiring to kidnap Lysander, and turn him over to another magister for money. It was despicable, and his blood boiled at the thought.

Astoria gasped in her horror and lunged, dropping her bow to the ground. It was all a blur in the darkness, but he heard Dannis swear and could see them barely - more a single form than anything. Fenris jumped forward and fumbled, feeling something hit him hard on the mouth. He could feel his lip bleeding, but he didn't think of that. He felt Astoria's body and reflexively wrapped his arms around her and spun, pulling her off Dannis. He cursed and held onto her though she thrashed in his arms. Fenris saw Dannis move towards them.

His immediate reaction was to step back, holding onto Astoria. He pointed to Dannis. "Don't!" Dannis froze and threw his hands up, meaning peace again.

Astoria settled, as she realized Dannis wasn't going to come after her. Fenris slowly loosened his vice grip on her, but arrested her wrist in his grasp to keep her from lunging at Dannis again.

"How dare you accuse me of betraying my own son!" Astoria nearly screamed at him, trembling in anger. He had never seen her in such a state. Dannis shook his head adamantly.

"No, no, I wouldn't think you would do that!"

"Then what?"

Though it was now dark, the waxing moon case just enough light for Fenris to see Dannis cross his arms. Fenris lightly wiped the blood from his chin with his free hand and watched.

"One can never be too sure. I'm only being honest when I sat I was looking out for him. If you knew what he was worth in gold, you'd understand. Do you know how many magisters offered Valinius money for him? Or how many offered Danarius money for your husband? To most men, everyone has a price."

Astoria shifted on her feet. "And your price, Dannis? What would you get if you returned Lysander to Valinius?"

He shook his head. "I can't very well do that when I've sent him a letter stating your son's death, can I?"

"How would I know you did?"

"You won't. I'm an honorable man, I would never sell out your son like that. I care for him. Please."

Astoria shook her head, trying to breath deeply. She tried pulling from Fenris' grasp. He let her go tentatively, waiting for her to attack Dannis again. Instead, she picked up her bow and stray arrow and turned towards the treeline.

"What happened with the attack?" Fenris asked, more than wanting to change the subject. Somehow they silently decided to head towards the forest, Dannis following them.

"It wasn't good. When I escaped, I watched from the trees. I did see you all get over the wall, but I was on the other side of the courtyard, and could do nothing to help. That's how I knew to go south, it was luck that I saw you today. I assumed you'd stop in Asariel, but it was wishful thinking at best. Anyway, at the mansion... I'm not exactly sure who won. There were a lot of guards, but I couldn't say if there were enough to overwhelm the rebels."

Astoria shivered, and Fenris locked their hands together, leading her from the road and into the trees towards the camp.

"I honestly didn't stay around long enough to see what the outcome was," Dannis explained. Astoria and Fenris both thought of the people they had traveled with and knew - were they all dead? He shivered and led them onward. What did it matter if they were or not? It didn't, he knew. There was nothing Astoria could do about it, or she'd probably have more to say.

"I'm sorry, Astoria, for saying that. I know how much you love your son."

Astoria shook her head and absentmindedly squeezed Fenris' hand a bit harder than she meant to. "Obviously you don't."

Fenris found himself smirking as they began to duck under and through the trees. He had a general idea of where the camp was, but beyond that he couldn't be sure. Eventually, with patience, luck, and the help of a torch, they found the flickering firelight of the campsite and approached, weary and worn down. When the reached the camp at last, Astoria got busy explaining what had happened in Asariel after she explained Dannis' presence.

"Unsurprisingly, I heard a lot of rumors. I could hear some guards talking about raiding the mansion - but it sounded like they had only heard about it. No one knows yet about the attack in Minrathous."

"We don't even know if there _was_ an attack in Minrathous," Dannis interjected.

"Yes, I suppose we don't," she allowed. "But... we'll have to go back into the city."

"How do you mean?" Fenris asked, tilting his head.

"I found Hunter quite early, actually. There's room for us - all of us - on a ship that's making a trade route, but carrying Templars and their families. It's going northeast, before going south on the canal that cuts through Rivain and into Rialto Bay. It ends its route in Antiva City - so we'll need to find our own means of going further, but it's better than nothing."

"When does the ship leave?" Varania asked.

"Dawn."

Fenris sighed. "I suppose it's for the best - if we can leave before Asariel learns of the Minrathous attack..."

"Exactly. We could wait seven days, but Asariel will surely be at arms by then. We'd be as good as dead."

"Well it's settled then," Fenris said, glancing between his sister and Dannis. "We'll be at the docks before dawn."

The fire crackled. Lysander stirred, but his breathing grew long and light. Were they really so close to escape? Fenris threaded his fingers through Astoria's as they prepared for a short sleep, burrowing under a thin blanket, both too nervous and anxious to sleep a moment.

Fenris wondered what else would go wrong. They were so close, too close, for anything bad to happen. There was no room for error anymore, not now that they had Lysander. Not that anything _could_ stop him, he realized. He'd get them and himself out of Tevinter, whatever the cost.


	59. The Open Arms of the Sea

Thank you to everyone who reviewed - Csorciere, , Pint-sized She-Bear, and Fallon-Idalia. You are all so helpful - I probably would not have written as much if it weren't for your support!

So for the third part of this chapter, I played Alexa Woodward's "Wolves" on repeat while I wrote it. I had never heard this song before, though I love her - and oh my, I think it would be the perfect song for this if it was a movie. I'll put a * there as a reminder in case anyone wanted to look for it on youtube and play it. I personally only found it here: freemp3box download -mp3-alexa-woodward. html (just get rid of the spaces) and you can play the song without downloading it.

* * *

><p>Dawn was still a distant thought when the six of them - Dannis, Fenris, Lysander, Varania, Astoria and Solara - entered between through the massive, rusted gates of the city. The story that had granted them access into the city was a simple one - Astoria and Dannis were a couple traveling between the beautiful cities of the north with their daughter, son, bodyguard and servant girl. As much as it irked Fenris, he knew that it was a necessary lie.<p>

They wove through the narrow streets as the sky began to lighten, eagerly making for the shore to the east. The city was quiet, only the morning birds and the low din of drunkards stumbling home could be heard. Fenris was on high alert, walking behind Astoria as she held her son's hand. He didn't miss even a rat's movement under his watchful stare.

At last, bells from the harbor could be heard, as well as the cry of gulls and the lapping of the ocean against the docks. It was then that Varania stopped, paralyzed with fear, and Dannis cleared his throat to catch Fenris' attention. He turned and saw his sister quivering, leaning on her stolen white staff, clutching her sleeping baby against her.

"What is it?" Fenris hissed, irritated. They didn't have time for any nonsense, not if the ship was leaving at dawn.

"The templars..." Varania muttered, "they're going to know about me."

"You didn't complain last night," Fenris pointed out, clenching his fists.

"I know, but..."

Fenris threw up his hands and wrinkled his nose at his sister. "Don't come with us, then. Cross the Silent Plains by yourself."

Varania glanced between Dannis, him, and Astoria. "Won't they know that I'm a mage?"

"Perhaps," Astoria answered, "but you don't have to make it obvious for them. Stay out of sight, don't use_ any_ magic while we're on the ship."

Fenris had seen mages practically dance under the nose of the templars in Kirkwall - it wouldn't be exceedingly difficult for one mage to go unnoticed if she kept her powers at bay and stayed hidden. Anders had even operated his own clinic and still had managed to remain free.

"Alright," Varania said, though it was obvious through her shaking that she wasn't alright with this. They continued towards the harbor of Asariel, spotting at last a large ship floating at the end of the longest dock. The_ Chariot_ bobbed in the waves, all massive sails flapping loosely in the sea breeze, not tightened yet. The bow ornament was a carved wooden woman with flowing hair spilling towards the deck and slender arms, covered in barnacles, reaching at the sides of the hull behind her.

It had been a long time since Fenris had been on a ship, not counting the ferry that brought him over the Minanter River. He glanced back at his sister, feeling no pity for her, and swallowed hard in his throat.

A handful of people were boarding the ship among the crew that hauled cargo over the railings. An overseer supervised everything, holding a manifesto and barking orders at the crew.

Fenris looked at Astoria and nodded for her to go on. Dannis took the lead, and Fenris threw his hood over his hair, hoping it would cover his ears. Astoria had lent Varania the sari he had given her, just to help hide her "elfness" until they boarded the ship. He hated seeing it on her, but there was little else he could do.

Part of him, a part that he acknowledged was probably sick, was glad that Varania was so uncomfortable. He had brought her here, and she'd be like a mouse trapped in a room with a hundred hungry cats. It's what she had done to him. Though another part of him knew that he didn't want her to get captured by the templars. She had proven herself loyal to them, but he was sure no matter what she did, it wouldn't root out the hate he had for her.

They walked on the docks, gingerly stepping through throngs of workers that loaded up their vessels for shipment. All of Asariel slept quietly in the waning night, but the harbor was alive and awake.

The overseer regarded them skeptically as they approached, all six of them. The man grabbed at his gray beard and eyed Fenris. "What business do you lot have here?" He asked in the common tongue, in a voice that was like stones grating together.

"We were promised passage on this ship to Antiva City," Astoria stepped forward. "My brother, Ser Hunter Jade of Kirkwall, said that there was room for us."

Fenris held his breath and watched the man from under the hem of his black hood, hoping that his markings were too covered to rouse suspicion.

The man frowned and looked over his shoulder, barking out, "Ser Thelmy! Captain Iverson!"

A man, a templar, walked towards them from a small ring of armored men. Dawn was just breaking, the first rays of sun peeking out over the eastern horizon, across the ocean. Ser Thelmy, red of hair and built like a horse, stepped beside the supervisor and looked at them all, his golden eyes lingering on the children in annoyance.

Another man, a roguish looking one with tanned features hollered an order to his crew and went towards them.

"This woman claims to know a... Ser Hunter Jade?" The supervisor said to the templar.

"He is my brother, Ser," Astoria said confidently, nodding to the templar. He furrowed his brow and looked at the others.

"And of the rest of them?" The Captain of the ship asked, sounding bored. Surely this was below his station.

"My husband," Astoria smiled and gestured to Fenris, "our son, my sister-in-law, her daughter and my uncle, Dannis. I assure you both of the children will be quiet, and we need not much."

The Captain grumbled and took the manifesto from the supervisor, clearly not wanting to deal with this issue.

"Have you brought your own supplies?" Asked the Captain, not kindly.

"We have coin, as well," Astoria said, her voice wavering in the least. "All we need are food and lodging."

The templar seemed to notice something, and he descended the ramp, moving towards them and stopping in front of Varania. Fenris could hear her breath coming in nervously as she edged in the slightest bit away from the man.

Ser Thelmy wasn't staring at her, though. His golden eyes were focused on the staff, at the gnarled bone-colored head of it with the gems. "Where would an elf find such a thing?" He asked curiously.

Fenris saw, out of the corner of his vision, the Captain cock his head in interest. Varania tightened her arms around Solara and swallowed. "I found it, not even a week ago. There was a carriage that had been burned on the road, this lay not far from it. I thought I'd be able to sell it."

Fenris gritted his teeth together. What if they needed to escape?

"You found it?" Ser Thelmy clucked, amused. "It's hard to believe someone would leave such a valuable behind."

"I..." Varania glanced around her, and Fenris knew she was digging. "I don't think the original owner survived the fire."

"You aren't the one that attacked this... caravan?"

"I assure you," Varania said, actually sounding sure of herself, "I have no skill with bows or blades. I'm a tailor, no more."

Ser Thelmy nodded and looked at the others, his eyes fell on Fenris. "You, you're a warrior?"

"I am," Fenris nodded, sparing the man no courtesies.

"And I," Dannis said, in an attempt to take the heat of the mysterious, marked elf.

"It matters not," Astoria interrupted, her voice sounding more nervous. "May we board? We do not wish to hold you here any longer than necessary."

The crew was almost finished readying the ship for departure.

"You said something of coin," The Captain said, his eyes glinting. "I have only a small space to spare, you'll all be uncomfortably close with each other unless you can share cots."

"We can," Astoria said. The templar was looking at Fenris still.

"May I see that blade?" He asked, and Fenris bristled.

"No."

"Please," Astoria raised her voice, turning to the intrusive templar, "is my brother Hunter here?"

Ser Thelmy turned towards her and nodded. "He is. I'll find him." The templar went back up the ramp and onto the ship, leaving the Captain and the supervisor there with them.

"As you said, coin." The Captain reminded, glancing between them. "I ask for three sovereigns for each of you for passage."

Astoria's mouth dropped open. "Three sovereigns each? It would be cheaper for us to purchase horses _and_ an escort across the Plains."

The Captain frowned. "Two each, and I have an interest in the walking stick."

Varania handed it to Astoria immediately, as to not give the impression she was a mage, trying to show that she was not attached to such an item. But Astoria shook her head.

"We'll give you three sovereigns now, and two when we arrive in Antiva City. The staff depends on how well we are treated."

Fenris grimaced. She should not have called it a staff. But the Captain nor the overseer seemed to notice. Captain Iverson growled. "You take me for a fool, woman? That will hardly cover the cost of your food."

Dannis stepped to her defense. "I'll throw in arms training for your crew."

Captain Iverson chuckled. "And you are a master-at-arms, then? If you are so good, why would you be bartering for passage?"

Dannis nodded. "I am highly skilled, your men could learn a thing or two from me. My name is Dannis."

"Well, Dannis..." Captain Iverson said gruffly, stroking the scruff on his face. "You are still more than we were told were coming. The templar said that there would only be five."

"There are," Dannis said with a small smirk, "if you don't count the infant. She won't be eating your food anyway, or drinking your wine. So how does it change anything?"

"My crew will not want to hear an infant screaming at all hours of the night," the Captain growled in response.

"I'll throw in two sovereigns for a private room." Varania offered. Astoria smacked her own forehead and groaned.

The Captain grinned. "So five sovereigns now, two when we land. The staff, perhaps? You're desperate to leave the city, eh?"

Astoria froze and Fenris swallowed hard.

"Astoria, I'm so glad you made it in time!" It was Hunter now, descending the ramp with a grin and arms open wide, the early sunlight glinting off his beautiful steel armor. Hunter ruffled Lysander's hair, and Fenris realized it was the first time the two had met. Lysander stared at his uncle in wonder while Hunter turned and looked back at the Captain.

"I was told that my family would be allowed on, was I not?" Hunter asked. Ser Thelmy was there now, and it appeared that that was who he was speaking to.

Ser Thelmy nodded, the blood rushing to his ears to turn them the same color as his hair.

"I only wanted to be sure you knew them, Ser Hunter."

The Captain chuckled and walked off, leaving the overseer and Ser Thelmy.

Astoria rummaged through her bag and found money, which Dannis and Varania both contributed to. She paid the overseer as she walked up the ramp, holding Lysander's hand, leading everyone behind her.

"Welcome aboard _Chariot_." The overseer gestured to the ship. He spotted one of the crew and called him over. "Farly, show these good people to their beds. They'll be at the very end of the crew's quarters."

They were shown to their quarters - four bunked beds behind a door in a tiny space that was dark and dingy. Fenris and Astoria would claim one bed, while Varania and Solara had another, with Lysander and Dannis on their own separate beds. Hunter had a spot with the other dozen templars in a separate room among the stored food, so he would not be with them.

To get to their quarters, they had to walk down a cramped hallway with several doors on either side leading into the crew's quarters - rows of bunked cots, foul of smell and cramped together.

They were not given a key for their quarters, but it could lock from the inside, which was something. Hunter led them back up to the deck and explained that Ser Thelmy was a new templar that had probably noticed the staff was magical, and in an effort to prove himself, hoped that he could catch something about the group.

"Will he cause a problem for us?" Astoria asked as she leaned on the side of the railing, the wind over the sea whipping her hair over her shoulders. Beside her, Lysander peered over the edge, his wrapped hands on the wooden sides as he watched the ocean sprawl before them.

"No," Hunter answered. "Just make sure Varania stays out of trouble."

Currently, she was in their quarters, resting with Solara. Fenris leaned back against the railing beside Lysander and looked around. The crew shouted orders to each other, but the sails were full and _Chariot_ seemed to almost glide away from Asariel.

There was an immense sense of relief that came with being on the road again, finally headed _away_ from Minrathous. Of course they'd be stopping in several ports before they'd be truly gone from the Imperium, but it was a step, and a satisfying one at that. The worst part about the entire thing was the fact there was no escape if needed, but Fenris held it in good faith that they wouldn't need escape.

"She will," Astoria said, her voice sad. "Thank you, Hunter, thank you so much for everything."

He nodded, and Fenris echoed her thanks as well. Hunter shrugged his shoulders and smiled slightly. "Thank me by staying in touch and take care of the house. We're family."

Astoria smiled back at him and Fenris could swear he could see tears in her eyes. Hunter's blue eyes settled on Lysander, solemnly, and he forced a chuckle.

"You are lucky to have such a healthy boy. Anna and I have been trying for years. We came close once, but it was not meant to be."

"I'm sorry," Astoria said, and it sounded as if she meant it.

After that, Hunter excused himself to speak with another templar, leaving Fenris, Astoria and Lysander alone. Astoria turned to face the sea and rubbed Lysander's back. She glanced sidelong at Fenris and smiled.

"Did we really do it, Fenris? Are we out of the lion's den?"

His brow lifted, face softening in the slightest amount. "It seems that we have," he murmured, leaning down on his elbows and glancing down at the teal, tropical water below. Porpoises played along the hull of the ship, sailing out of the water and diving back under, carefree and quick. Fenris watched them for a minute. "We have far to go still."

Astoria nodded and kissed Lysander on top of his head. He smiled against the back of his hands, keeping his eyes on the ocean.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Astoria asked him. Lysander lifted his chin from his hands and shook his head.

"It's nothing," he replied, "I've never been on a boat before."

She smiled sadly and ran a hand through his wavy, black hair. "You haven't. They aren't terrible, are they?"

He shook his head and leaned a bit closer to the edge, moving onto his toes to watch the porpoises below. Fenris stood, straightening himself, and gazed around them.

"How long do you think it will take to get to Antiva City from here?" Fenris wondered, tapping his slender fingers on the wood of the railing. The ship rocked from side to side slowly, but it didn't bother him much.

"Too long," Astoria responded. "A month, at the very least, if the Maker is good to us."

He frowned. "Since when do you believe in the Maker?"

She shrugged. "There must be someone looking over us, if we were led to him." She ran her hand again through Lysander's hair, and Fenris thought it was fair enough. Perhaps she was right. Fenris had always wanted to believe, but never had a reason to. It mattered little anyway. He was content, maybe even happy. And there was so little left to the road, but it would be so achingly long.

* * *

><p>September was drawing to a close by the time<em> Chariot<em> had left the harbor of Qarinus in her wake. Lysander's birthday had come and gone, a modest celebration of the few of them. The boy hadn't wanted anything, nor did anyone have anything to give. He hadn't celebrated his birthday in years, since slavery doesn't allow for such luxuries. Still, Fenris watched his progress and was impressed. Astoria spent hours with him everyday trying to teach him to read, and the boy was slowly progressing though he still asked permission to use the bathroom or to eat.

The searingly hot days of the tropical lands of Tevinter were much more bearable on the open ocean, where the breeze swept freely and splashed them with mist and salt. The sky, so thick with haze in the summer, was a brighter and clearer blue in the autumn days.

A couple weeks earlier, Fenris had grown ill with his fits and spent three days in bed with a fever and nightmares. When he awoke, Dannis told him that he still believed it was from the markings and the poison within them breaking apart.

Varania had done well so far. She managed to keep a low profile, and if the templars suspected her of being a mage, they said nothing. Varania had a knack for keeping her low profile - it was a skill acquired from years of slavery.

_Chariot_ sailed east, with a majestic sunset at her back after she had left Qarinus. Directly to the north lay Seheron, Fenris' homeland, though he hardly thought of it at all. The sun lit the sky ablaze with fire and the colors of a southern autumn. They sailed from the Ventosus Straits towards the gaping mouth of the Venefication Sea, a massive expanse of bright, warm water. Fenris, Astoria, Hunter, Lysander, Dannis and Varania (who held Solara) all stood together at the stern of the ship, in a corner.

Dannis' face was grave when he met with them all at the stern of the ship. He had spent the night before and the day in the city, the only one of them, as he often did whenever they landed in port. However so far they had kept ahead of any news of Minrathous. All seemed quiet in Tevinter.

"The magisters have halted their war on Seheron."

Fenris heard Varania suck in a breath. But Dannis continued. "Word arrived from Minrathous just three days ago in Qarinus. The attack on the Senate was largely successful. It killed fifteen magisters and left three wounded. The High Archon is dead - and the magisters that remain are fighting for the position - taking chunks of the city for their own territory. Meanwhile, there's an uprising all over the land. Some cities, I heard, are more successful at suppressing the rebellions, but some are failing miserably. Marnus Pell has been burned completely to the ground - nothing remains of it. Neromenian has been ransacked and destroyed, abandoned."

Dannis drew in a breath and touched his sword absent of mind. "The magisters from the countrysides are either gathering up their own army of slaves or mass murdering them. Refugees are fleeing to Weisshaupt, and getting attacked and kidnapped along the way. It's a mess."

Fenris shifted his gaze towards the shore - a green line on the horizon to the south. Were they really in so much chaos? It was difficult to imagine the distant shore as a land at war with itself.

Dannis shook his head as if in disappointment. "Qarinus was locking up all the slaves, servants, even regular citizens for the dust to settle, they don't want to risk a mob. The city is at a standstill, on lock down for all but traders, the only reason we were allowed at port."

"It seems the Imperium has collapsed without its precious slaves," Fenris muttered bitterly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the side of the ship. Hunter nodded.

"Without its _obedient_ slaves, you mean," Hunter corrected him with a wry grin. Fenris smirked and Astoria sighed in relief, casting a glance at the shore and where it faded into the horizon so far to the east. Behind her the sky was a great fire, the high clouds a bright pink.

"We couldn't have had better timing then, or luck."

"Certainly not," Dannis answered her. "And that's the last of the Imperium that we're to see."

Fenris paused. It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when he thought of it, he realized that Dannis was correct. Qarinus was the most eastern city of the Imperium, at least on the coast. Fenris had studied maps after he had learned to read, partly because he had been planning where to go next, where he had not been, where he had been. But in his memory he knew very well the boundaries of the Imperium. In the midst of the chaos, Tevinter would only constrict on itself, able to hold only the cities under its shadow, and in times of war, these cities were likely to break off as independent.

That was it, then. They were out of the Imperium. Fenris unfolded his arms, feeling a massive weight lift from his shoulders, relief coursing through his veins as adrenaline. A giddy joy filled him.

They were not home, but they were out of the gates of Hell, and that was something. He threaded his fingers through Astoria's, and when he looked at her, he saw her blue eyes brimming with tears of her own relief. Being out of the Imperium meant so much - that there was never a trap, that Astoria could be trusted to the ends of the world, that he had survived and likely was going to for sometime. All was well for now. He had to remind himself that he wasn't home yet, but it seemed a much more manageable goal from here - standing on a rocking ship, surrounded by armed men and veiled under a hot, blazing sky.

There, in front of them all and the Maker himself, Fenris kissed her suddenly.

* * *

><p>"Fenris, what is this? Wine?"<p>

He had woken her up and brought her to a dark storage room where several crates of silk lay stacked on each other. Most of the people on the ship slept quietly, but Fenris wasn't able to sleep that night. He was too happy to finally be out of Tevinter officially, to wash his hands of such a place that he hated so much.

"I have reason to celebrate tonight," he murmured in the dark, grinning as he heard the liquid splash in the bottle, meaning that she was drinking.

"And it is...?"

"We're out of Tevinter, of course."

She giggled and he found the wine, taking a long swig of it and then another.

"Did you steal that?"

"Perhaps," he chuckled, hoisting himself on a crate and taking another gulp of wine before handing the bottle to her.

"Fenris - they're going to flay you if they catch you."

"Let them try," he said, rolling his eyes. He arrested Astoria's wrist and tugged on it. "I feel unstoppable tonight."

She chuckled and climbed the crate to sit next to him. "I suppose that's fine then," she said, taking the wine from him and drinking from it before handing it back. "How are you doing?"

"I cannot wait to get off this wretched ship, on solid land."

"We have a long way to go still. More than a month until we reach Antiva."

"And then we'll need to get on another ship," Fenris complained. "Bah. It makes no difference. We're safer than we've been in months."

Astoria began to trace whorls on his shoulder. He had left his armor and sword in the room, wearing only his black legging and tunic, leaving even his bulky belt.

"I remember more... as well. I haven't told you because it seems we never get any privacy." This much was very true. They hadn't made love in almost a month, since before they even got on the ship. When she touched him a hungry heat spread from his groin to the rest of him, making him ache with want. "But I remember much more."

"Such as...?"

"I can remember mostly little things - meals we all had together, working, childhood things. But there are others. I remember our wedding day, night and morning after. I remember seeing a slave hang when I was a child in the courtyard. I remember Dannis training me to use my markings."

"And is this good?"

He nodded, and then realized she couldn't see him in the pitch black room. "Yes... yes, it is."

Her hand moved to his spine and traced it down, where his shirt left it exposed due to its cut. He shivered and shut his eyes. Though they shared a bed, they didn't have many affectionate touches such as this, when they both knew that it would only go so far with everyone else in the same room. He subconsciously sat up a bit straighter.

He wanted to touch her. He dropped a palm on her thigh and squeezed gently, taking another long swig of wine before handing her the bottle.

"So it's been worth it, for you?" He asked her. "To come all this way?"

A moment passed. "What? Of course... it was worth every moment." She chuckled and he heard her take another swig. "I only wish that I had known where he was before. Then maybe on our way to Ferelden... we'd visit you."

Fenris snorted. "You would?"

She splayed her fingers out on his back and kissed the bare skin of his shoulder. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

"Probably not... but... before I did, I had always wondered what would happen if I had gone to see you."

"I'm sure you expected someone other than who you found. I made an attempt on your life..." he drawled regretfully, finding himself slouching again.

Astoria hummed, unsure of what to say. She rested her chin on his shoulder and he felt her warm breath in his ear. "I don't regret finding you, Fenris."

"My apologies,_ mellita_," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper as he felt the wine beginning to course through him. He slid down from the crate and turned, putting both of his hands on her knees and leaning in slowly to rest his forehead against hers.*

"Do you regret coming with me?" Astoria asked. He knew that for some reason she felt guilty for "pulling him away" from his "life," but he didn't see it the same.

"No," he answered shortly. He hooked his fingers around the bottom of her knees and pulled them apart, stepping between them and pinning her legs to his hips. He moved his palms up her legs to her waist and held her there. "I only wish I remembered you before. I'd come help you, you know. I would have..." He sighed. The wine had loosened his tongue too much. But thankfully, Astoria had the grace not to respond. He was embarrassed enough as it was.

Fenris leaned against the crate and sucked in a quick breath when Astoria's mouth brushed his neck. Holding the bottle of wine with one hand, the other went under his tunic to feel his corded muscles on his abdomen. Fenris went still, savoring the moment and the feel of her breath on his skin, the feel of her lips, chapped as they were from the salt wind, just under his ear.

Fenris took the bottle from her and took another drink of it, letting her finish the bottle as he pulled on her legs so she sat on the edge. She braced herself as he yanked her leggings down her hips and off one leg, letting them dangle off the other ankle. He stepped closer and his mouth descended on her collarbone, her fingers working at his own leggings.

It had been so long since they joined last that he had no patience tonight. It took him only a moment to enter her, and he felt dizzy when she cried out and clutched at his shoulders. He pressed his mouth to her, hungrily and fiercely, half to keep from saying anything else more intimate, and moved. They were two lovers again, and yet so much more. She sighed and cried out in pleasure, a pleasure beyond physical. A deep needing from the depths of her being, and Fenris was sure he felt it also.

He brought them both to their fullest, and when it was over, Fenris blindly tucked a strand of hair behind Astoria's ear, breathless and exhausted. She hung her head against his chest and slid down onto her feet. Her fingers roamed softly over his dusty skin, kissing his chest lazily.

"Fenris?"

"I am yours."

"I ... oh. And... I, yours."

He knew, but he had the grace not to say so. Astoria chuckled against his body and rested her forehead on his chest. He smiled into her hair and though his knees felt weak and weary, he was a man unstoppable. Proud, determined and free. Most of all, free.


	60. A Red Sky

**Couple chapters left to go! =) Fallon-Idalia, Csorciere, Pint-sized She-Bear, and of course WickedL - thank you all so incredibly much for taking precious time to read my looooong story, I hope it was to your fitting. You are all the reason I've written so much of this and didn't lose steam long ago.**

* * *

><p>The dark teal waters of the Rialto Bay in the north had shifted to a green that was almost black as they sailed south into the narrow mouth of the canal from the Waking Sea. Beside Fenris, Lysander stood open-mouthed and almost fearful in sight of the Twins, the massive bronze statues of slaves bent over in their own tears.<p>

A shiver crawled up his spine upon seeing them for the first time in almost a year. What a long journey it had been, a journey that wasn't finished yet. In the middle of November they had spent a week in Antiva City, after getting off_ Chariot_ and saying good-bye to Hunter, who had to take a different ship to Kirkwall with the other templars. After that, Varania had seemed to fall in love with the city. The "delicate" women of Antiva's capitol wore flowing, colorful silks and spoke pleasantly and softly - it all called to Fenris' sister. She claimed that she would stay and find work as a tailor, and Fenris didn't argue with her. Saying good-bye to her was surprisingly bittersweet, but Fenris lost no sleep over it.

After she had done that, Dannis chose to leave as well. He claimed that he didn't need to follow Astoria and Fenris around any longer, that Lysander must be in good hands. Where he was off to next, he wouldn't say, but he said he had washed his hands of the Imperium.

Speaking of, the Imperium was lost in a civil war. Even the Qunari had landed upon their shores, seizing complete control of Seheron. Last Fenris knew, Minrathous was on the brink of falling. It pleased him to outlive Tevinter, to see it burn at the hands of ex-slaves and the Qunari.

"Those are the Twins," Fenris told Lysander, his voice level. The ship they now traveled on bobbed between the two massive cliffs, cloaked in the shadows of them. "This is the 'City of Chains,' or Kirkwall."

Fenris frowned as the shadow cooled the already chilled day. Now, at the end of January, a cold wind from the south blew across the Waking Sea. He had spent almost five months on the water - and could not wait to get off this blasted ship, go to the Hanged Man, drink and sleep on a bed that didn't rock back and forth, a place without drunk sailors, where he could stoke a fireplace and take a bath and not duck when he walked through doorways.

Lysander's green eyes scanned the cliffs that loomed high and steep on either side. "And this is where Uncle Hunter lives?"

"Yes, sweetheart," Astoria answered, "but I think he's been here for a while. And this is where Fenris lives -"

Fenris shot her a look. "Lived," he amended and splayed his fingers out on the small of her back. "I'm sure my home has been sold at this point, Aveline couldn't keep it a secret forever."

Astoria smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Well, this will be home for all of us, for a little while at least. I can't bear the thought of being on a boat for another day." She stifled a groan of pain. She had been seasick all day and the day before, and chalked it up to nerves.

"Neither can I. Though getting to your home would only take what, two days, by sea?"

"This is the route the trade ships go - they hug the coast. Still, Highever isn't a city the way Kirkwall is. It sees substantially less traffic. And in the winter, where Ferelden has little exports since the fields are frozen... it isn't likely we'll find passage as soon as we'd like."

Fenris shrugged. "We'll find a way. I'd just as soon walk."

Astoria chuckled. "Walk all the way through Orlais? I'd be an old women by the time we'd reach Highever. Do you miss dry land that much?"

His response rumbled deep in his chest, an amused sound. "I suppose not. Orlais isn't a place I'm interested in seeing just yet."

Within the hour, the ship pulled up into the Docks, and the three of them gathered on the street. Lysander's smile was infectious, and Fenris loved the feeling of being on solid land again. He felt weak after so long, so many days of not marching off somewhere, not fighting anyone. He wanted to get strong again. His exercise on the ship had only consisted of sparring with Astoria, Dannis and Lysander, and frequent, private rendezvous' with Astoria in forgotten rooms on either of the ships they had been on since Asariel.

"Where should we go?" Astoria asked, stretching.

"I'd suggest..." Fenris paused, "The Hanged Man. If Hawke has moved, at least someone at there will know and point us in the right direction. I know the way from here, let's go."

Fenris led Astoria and Lysander up the winding streets, glad to be in such a familiar city. Not too much had changed since he had left it almost a year ago. Commoners roamed the streets, and the city was still infested with Ferelden refugees. Not that any of it mattered, Fenris wouldn't be here for long. After two more days on a boat, a week at most, he'd never have to be at sea again.

A chilled wind shivered through the streets, between the dilapidated buildings of Lowtown. Fenris walked on Lysander's right side, keeping the boy between him and Astoria. He pulled his black scarf away, not feeling the need to cover his markings anymore in a city where he had bared them for years. The pale sunlight was warm, but the breeze was sobering and carried with it salt and the smell of the sea.

They rounded several corners, and one glance at Astoria, Fenris saw that she was lost. She didn't know Kirkwall like he did, but she hadn't spent years here either.

"We're almost there," Fenris told them both. He felt anxious - what would all of his former companions be like now? Had anyone died? What would they think of him now with a son and wife?

"Are you alright?" Astoria asked him, holding Lysander's hand in hers. Fenris felt both of them look at him; one pair of green eyes and one pair of blue. He realized that he was scowling, looking forward with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Yes," he replied curtly. "You? How do you feel?"

"A bit better," Astoria replied. Without thought, her palm went to her stomach and her brow pulled together in discomfort.

Something pricked at Fenris' consciousness, and he felt his stomach drop. She couldn't be... could she? He turned, unable to look at her without giving away something in his face. "Come," he urged, his voice shaking slightly.

Astoria hadn't seen his change in behavior. She followed along, running her thumb along the back of Lysander's hand. _No_, he told himself, _she would know if she was pregnant. She's been pregnant before, she knows what to look for._

He tried pushing it from his thoughts, but it was impossible. He had thought it, and though it seemed to be something Astoria hadn't even considered, he wouldn't be able to let it rest.

The large, creaking sign for The Hanged Man swung in the breeze as they finally reached it. Fenris swallowed hard, wondering what he would discover. A drunk stumbled out into the street, and music drifted out with him, muffling when the door slammed shut.

"We're here," Fenris muttered, glancing nervously at Astoria. She didn't seem as bothered as he felt.

"Well," she said with a half-smile, "let's see what your friends have been up to."

He was barraged with the scent of ale, slight vomit, burnt meat, sweat and wood burning in the fireplace. Three men in the corner played music - a violin, flute and lute. Sconces lit the tavern in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the walls and floors, dancing about.

It was all so familiar. Nora raised a tray of tankards over her head to squeeze through a small crowd of people at the bar. Fenris scanned the room, looking for -

"Elf!" Fenris snapped his head to the side and his gaze settled on the man calling him.

"Dwarf," Fenris replied, a smirk spreading across his face. Varric sauntered over towards him from the bar, a tall mug of ale in his hand and a sly grin on his lips.

"I thought you were dead!" Varric said, disbelief on his square face. He grinned at Astoria and Lysander, who was at this point about just as tall as him. "Oh Andraste's ass, is this...?"

"Lysander," Astoria said, laughing, "our son. Lysander, this is Varric."

"Hi," Lysander said to him, shyly.

Varric looked between Fenris and Lysander. "Well, there's no question of it, you two look so alike! The markings are hereditary too?"

It was an awful joke, and Fenris scoffed bitterly. "I'm just kidding," Varric said quickly, before Fenris could reply. "I never thought I'd see you again! Come, you must tell me everything!"

Fenris didn't want to get into it all at the moment. "We'd prefer baths and a true meal, actually," Fenris said. Besides, he wanted to talk to Astoria alone.

"Use my room! Your humble, filthy abode is gone, some noble lives there now. I'll send a message to Hawke and the others-"

"Is everyone... still...?"

Varric laughed. "It takes a lot to take one of us down, doesn't it? No, everyone's well and where they were before. Anders is a hard man to find nowadays, but I don't think you care much for him anyway."

Fenris rolled his eyes, and Varric let out a great laugh. "Here, come with me," he said, turning on his stunted legs and moving quickly. Fenris, Lysander and Astoria followed behind him. Fenris cast a glance at his wife and saw her chewing on her bottom lip. Was she still in pain?

Varric opened the door to his room with his key and let them inside. "Feel free to wear some clothes of mine if you don't have any clean ones, and for you Astoria, I can get something from Isabela."

Fenris didn't like that idea, but Astoria shrugged. "If you see her, that would be much appreciated."

"Unfortunately, I don't have anything for your little one. We may be the same height, but I have a hundred pounds on him at least." Varric winked at Lysander. "I'll be back!" He called before leaving them in the room.

Lysander was the first to draw a bath and use it, leaving Fenris and Astoria in the room alone. Fenris picked the first things of Varric's that he could find and settled in a chair in front of the smoldering fire, leaning on a wooden table. Astoria was looking at Varric's bookcase, scanning the titles of his tomes.

"How is your pain?" Fenris asked, thrumming his armored fingertips on the wood of the table.

Astoria shrugged, sending him a warm glance. "It comes and goes."

"Have you retched?"

She turned to him and shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her and looking around the room. "No, I feel like I need to, though. I think I've been on a damned ship too long."

Fenris interlaced his fingers and brought his hands under his chin, watching her closely. "And when is the last time you've..."

He didn't need to finish. Astoria paused and looked at him, incredulous. "Wh... oh." She covered her mouth with her palm, suddenly looking extremely distressed. After a moment she shook her head and tried to relax. "No... I wasn't sick with him," she said, gesturing towards the washroom, where Lysander was.

Fenris crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, restless. "Is every pregnancy the same?"

She didn't answer. Astoria moved and sat opposite Fenris in another wooden chair, suddenly looking exhausted. "It can't be..." she murmured to herself. "I didn't even think you could have children anymore."

"Why not?"

Astoria chewed her bottom lip, neck flushing red. "I thought the lyrium made you... sterile. It was only an assumption, I didn't know either way."

"When is the last time you've bled?" Fenris repeated his earlier question.

"I... I don't keep track of it," she said, looking ashamed. "I get warnings. Cramping usually a few days before."

"If you had to guess," Fenris prodded, wanting a straight answer. He ran a hand through his white hair, vaguely realizing how long it had gotten while at sea. He could likely tie it back now if he wanted to.

"If I had to guess," Astoria began, "then... yes, it's... late." She hung her head and covered her face in her hands. "Oh... no, Fenris..."

He watched her silently in that room, listening to the water in the washroom splash.

"How far along do you guess?"

Astoria didn't answer him at first, drowning in her own despair. Her shoulders shook, and Fenris began to realize just how distressing this was for her.

"Is it truly that terrible?" He asked, his voice softer this time.

Astoria trembled, but took a few long breaths and raised her head, wiping from her cheeks some tears that hadn't fallen all the way.

"It's so difficult... to raise a child, Fenris... you don't understand."

His mouth tightened and he sagged against the chair, too exhausted to deal with the day.

"We're jumping to conclusions," Astoria said, trying to reassure herself. "It might be nothing."

"We'll just wait to see?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Unless I go to a mage. A healer, preferably - a mage with experience of the body."

_Anders._ Fenris sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "We'll see who we need to see."

Though nothing had been completely determined, Fenris felt slightly better now that they had somewhat of a plan, even though the plan was to do nothing. He moved to sit beside her and he locked his fingers with her own and they sat in silence until Lysander came out of the bath.

Fenris went next, and then Astoria. Afterwards, they washed their own clothes and hung them up to dry. It was only after then that Varric came back, laughing loudly with Hawke on his heels.

The young bearded man stepped in the room as Astoria was hanging up their wet clothes on the rack. Fenris stood and smiled at his old friend.

"Hello, Hawke."

"Fenris, welcome back, it's great to know you're all safe! It's nice to see you again, Astoria."

She smiled at him, "You too, Garrett, how are you?"

Hawke was going to answer, then he laughed and shook his head. "As good as I can be with all the nonsense in this blasted city. It doesn't matter." He spotted Lysander. "And here's the little one!" He said with a warm smile. "Hi, Lysander, I'm Garrett Hawke. I heard a lot about you from your mother last year."

"Hi," Lysander replied, looking at Hawke's blades. "I've heard about you too. My father says you killed an ogre and an elder dragon!"

Hawke chuckled, but behind his smile he looked tired and sad, worn down. "I had help with both of them. Your dad helped with the dragon." Hawke grinned and glanced at Fenris. "You have a blade, I see," Hawke pointed to Lysander's sword - the rusted iron hanging from his belt because he liked to practice with it so much. "We'll have to practice sometime."

Fenris' lip curled in a smirk and he leaned back against the table and Hawke turned to him. "I brought clothes for you," Hawke said, noticing the way Fenris' legs were too long for Varric's pants. "Varric said that you might need some."

"Thank you, but we'll be fine when our clothes dry."

Hawke nodded and put the bag of clothes down that he had brought. "Isabela is going to be throwing a party for you both, she said she'll be here later."

"How's Aveline?" Fenris asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Lysander was helping Astoria dry out the clothes beside the fire. Of all his companions, Aveline had always been his favorite other than Hawke.

"She's well, she'll be coming also I'm sure." Hawke paused and glanced at Astoria. "There isn't enough room here for you three. Come to my house."

"Oh, we couldn't intrude, we can get our own room here," Astoria began, finishing with the clothes. Hawke shook his head.

"No, I insist. It's a quiet place anyway. Orana, Bodahn and Sandal aren't much company, it'd be nice to have someone there. At least until you all get back on your feet."

"We won't be here for very long," Fenris said, shooting Astoria a concerned glance. "We'll be moving into her family's house in Ferelden."

"Might as well wait out the rest of the winter, then," Hawke suggested. "It's cold across the sea."

Astoria nodded in agreement. "Well, if you are sure it isn't a problem-"

"Not at all, please." Hawke said. He looked tired, as if he had been through a journey of his own. "Let's sit. While we wait for everyone else to get here, I'll fill you in."

* * *

><p>At least two hours passed before anyone else showed up. Aveline came first, followed by Isabela and then Merrill. Anders was the last and had dark circles beneath his eyes and a sour expression, though he greeted Fenris warm enough.<p>

Varric ordered drinks to be sent to his room, and they all sat around the table drinking in the warmth of the fire. Astoria sat on Fenris' right, with Lysander on her right, flipping through a book that Varric owned that had a lot of drawings of ancient armor sets, political figures, tactical maps of ancient battles among other things. Lysander still couldn't read proficiently, but he was making progress.

Fenris and Astoria told everyone about their journey, about how the helped to throw Tevinter into chaos, how they killed a magister, escaped from Valinius' estate in the heat of battle. They told them about Varania, being attacked by slavers, being attacked in Tantervale and about the barn outside of Minrathous where Astoria used to live. They left out intimate details as well as what they had learned about Fenris' markings - how they made him physically sick, how he would probably lose his ability to phase eventually.

Luckily, no one asked Lysander what he could do with his own markings, or if they hurt him. But they all looked at the boy with pity in their eyes, even Anders, who had always been too self focused to give a thought towards Fenris' own markings. Fenris wished they didn't pity Lysander, but at the same time he also felt badly for him.

They drank and laughed, and Hawke explained how the mages and templars were at each other's throats, but they didn't stay on this subject long since Anders went on a tirade about the oppression of mages. Fenris couldn't stand how Anders could still defend the mages so adamantly when he had a perfect example of what mages do, even to children, sitting at that very table.

But when Anders got up to leave not long after, Fenris tugged on Astoria. "Let's ask him."

She sent him a confused look. "Wh-?"

"Anders, one moment," Fenris called out to the mage as he went to the door. Anders paused and looked at them, irritated.

Fenris felt everyone's eyes on him, but he didn't care. "Wait for us, it'll just be a second."

Astoria caught on and she got up and followed him into the hall with Anders. Vaguely Fenris could hear the talk continue in Varric's room.

"Anders, before you go... is there a way that you can..." He didn't know how to ask. Anders leaned against the wall and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" He asked, sounding more tired than annoyed now.

"I might be pregnant," Astoria said at once. "I... can you tell?"

Anders frowned, and then sighed. He took a step towards her and put two hands on her stomach. Fenris watched, tensed, as a warm blue magic drifted out from under Anders' hands and then back into them. He shut his eyes and concentrated for a moment, then pulled away and straightened.

"I... I'm not sure. Maybe? It could be too early to tell. It's strange."

"What do you mean 'it's strange?'" Fenris growled, putting a hand on Astoria's back.

Anders glared at him for half a moment. "It's a strange feeling I get from doing that - unusual. I can usually tell a couple weeks in." He pointed at Fenris. "You shouldn't be having children anyway, you have lyrium in your blood."

Fenris' mouth tightened, and he balled his hands into fists, dropping his touch from Astoria. "Watch what you say to me, abomination, or I'll have your throat."

Anders flickered like a dying candle, Justice trying to show through his skin. But he managed to gain control of himself. "It's true, and you're just angry I pointed it out first."

Fenris almost shoved him, but he wouldn't do it, not here where patrons of The Hanged Man could see them. He took half a moment to pause and stop. Astoria put her hands on his shoulders.

"Fenris, stop," she said calmly, "he did us a favor by checking -"

"Fuck his favors," Fenris muttered. "_Venhedis._"

"Go inside," Astoria told him sternly. "Let me talk to him for a minute."

Fenris knew if Justice did expose himself, there would be trouble. With how things were in Kirkwall, Anders shouldn't be using magic in such a public place. As much as he hated Anders, he wouldn't betray Hawke by turning him in to the templars.

"Fine," he muttered, "be careful."

Fenris went back into Varric's room, shutting the door behind him. The conversation halted and Varric was beginning to deal out a game of Wicked Grace.

"Everything alright?" Hawke asked, knowing all too well Fenris' history with Anders.

_No. No no no NO._

"Fine," Fenris muttered, moving to sit next to Lysander. He listened intently for anything that could be happening, but he heard nothing from the other side of the wall.

A few minutes later, Astoria did come back in with a neutral expression on her face. She sat on the chair beside Fenris and picked up her cards, sipping from her glass.

"Are you alright?" He asked her under his breath as she examined her cards.

She nodded, not looking at him, mouth tight. That was a bad sign. Fenris put a hand on her thigh and squeezed. She smiled and though it was forced, it was a smile nonetheless.

"He's never seen anything like our case before. There's no reason to worry about it anymore than normal," she told him later, in the middle of the game when no one was sure to be eavesdropping.

But Fenris knew better. Anders had made a good point. There was lyrium in his blood, and lyrium was poisonous. But if Lysander could withstand it, couldn't another one of theirs? Fenris hadn't had the markings at the time of Lysander's conception, but still.

There was nothing they could do about it now, especially when they didn't know if she was even pregnant. Fenris gazed at his cards, deep in thought, until Isabela's voice sang out to him.

"Fenris? Fenris?"

He glanced up over his cards and realized they were all waiting on him.

"Oh," he muttered. "I raise."

* * *

><p>Isabela had outdone herself. In less than twenty four hours, she had managed to plan a spectacular party. When Fenris, Astoria and Lysander came in from the market that day, she had been hanging little, colorful flags all across the foyer with Merrill. Hawke had somehow managed to get a keg downstairs, probably with the help of Aveline and Donnic.<p>

Bodahn was setting up dishes that he carried from the kitchen where Orana cooked alongside Hawke. Varric replenished the firewood beside the hearth so that no one would have to run far to stoke the fire.

"Oh, Maker, your friends-"

"Love any excuse to drink," Fenris finished for her with a smirk on his face. He noticed that Anders wasn't here, and he didn't care.

Since they had had that altercation, Fenris couldn't concentrate on much other than their potential child. After they had brought their belongings back to Hawke's house the night before and settled in, Astoria and Fenris had sat in a long silence in front of the fire.

"I remember Dannis said that there was another lyrium warrior that had a child, after the fact," Astoria said eventually, hope filtering in through her voice. "We'll be fine."

"But Anders said it_ felt_ different," Fenris pointed out, his voice quiet. "What does that mean?"

Astoria smiled at him, looking both parts exhausted but as well as calm. "Do you think any child of ours would ever be considered normal?"

His mouth twitched involuntarily. "I would have it so. I don't want to be a family of misfits."

She giggled quietly and rested her chin in her palm on her chair, feet stretched out in front of the fire. "It's what we are. We may as well accept it and move on. I love my misfits as much as I would if you were both normal." Her voice went quiet towards the end of her sentence, and Fenris felt his ears burning as he blushed slightly. She said it, though she hadn't meant to. She used that word.

Fenris recovered his composure and flicked a tiny feather from the pillows of the bed from his black leggings, distracting himself. She loved him. He knew it before, a long time ago, but it was different to hear it actually from her mouth. "I am glad to hear it," he murmured, lifting his gaze to the fire. "And you would do it all again?" He asked, tilting his head to look at her curiously.

"All of it?" She joked and then chuckled. "Yes. Sad, isn't it? I'd run away from home again, do it all over."

"Even knowing all the pain you would endure?"

"Pain is a small thing in the face of love."

His lip curled and he slouched into the chair. "Very well."

That was all they had said about it that night. Today, Fenris felt slightly better. Astoria may or may not be pregnant, but what could they do about it but wait and find out? Maybe his lyrium would hurt any child of his, but he also wouldn't be the first to have a healthy child after receiving the markings, according to Dannis. It was enough to allow him to sleep.

And now the party was almost finished being set up. Colorful flags and streamers hung from the rafters, and when Merrill spotted them she waved. "You're early!" She shouted down from on top of the ladder she stood on. Isabela laughed from the bottom of the ladder and grinned at them.

"Grab some wine and ale!" She sang out to them, and then winked knowingly at Astoria. Fenris wondered if Anders had told everyone about their situation, but if he had, no one said anything. He and Astoria hadn't discussed saying anything to Lysander yet, they wanted to be sure that there was indeed a child on the way.

Whether or not there was, there was nothing to be done for it. Not in the face of celebration, in the company of good friends and tasty, spiced ales and wines. Fenris filled his glass and before he knew it, the music was playing. A fiddle rang out, and Hawke's foyer was suddenly a busy place filled to the brim with laughter and song. Around a big table sat Isabela, Hawke, Merrill, Varric, a grudging Anders, Aveline, Donnic, some of Hawke's friends from when he was still a mercenary, Orana, Bodahn and Sandal. It was more life than Hawke's mansion had seen in years, he told them.

It was a beautiful night, and in the midst of it all, Fenris dismissed the potential child for a while. As they dove well into their cups, Merrill led Lysander out into the middle of the foyer before the great fire. Fenris stood with Astoria and placed his offhand lazily on her back, shifting his weight on his feet.

"What are they doing?" He asked, eyeing Merrill as she laughed with Lysander and said something to the boy.

Astoria watched them for a moment. The dim lighting of the sconces and fireplace danced on her face. Astoria laughed, and it sounded so clear and cheerful that it took Fenris aback.

"She's teaching him how to dance, the way the Dalish do," she explained, smiling. Fenris glanced back at them and saw Merrill spin and take Lysander's hands in hers. The boy was blushing and grinning, adapting to the moves Merrill was showing him.

Fenris smirked and took a sip of his wine. Isabela and Hawke were joining Merrill and Lysander out on the floor, all trying to learn together. The fiddle ripped into another song, a fast one that sent chills up Astoria's spine. Aveline and Donnic were talking where they sat at a table, and Orana was watching the scene before her quietly, as well as Sandal and Bodahn. The simple dwarf had eyes large as saucers, staring in amazement at everyone dance.

Night descended upon a darkened Kirkwall, a city in strife and distress, but no one would ever know it by being at Hawke's mansion then. Only Anders remained with a frown on his face, but it seemed as though these days, nothing could cheer him. It didn't matter anyhow.

Fenris pulled Astoria closer to him, and they settled down on a bench to watch the show. Merrill looped arms with Lysander and showed him her traditional dance while Hawke and Isabela tried to copy, laughing like fools when they messed up.

Inside Hawke's Mansion, the night was magical, happy and warm. The drinks tasted magnificent and Fenris was more than full from trying so many different foods.

"It is so nice to just sit and relax," Astoria noted after a time. Fenris gazed at her curiously, in quiet longing. He put an arm around her and on the table, so she settled in against his shoulder.

"It's nice to be on solid land again," Fenris agreed, taking a long swig of his wine. Just then a breathless Merrill skipped towards them, her cheeks flushed red and green eyes bright and cheerful. She sat on the bench across from Fenris and Astoria and glanced over her shoulder again at the spectacle.

"Lysander is such a sweet boy," Merrill breathed. "Can't you all stay here in Kirkwall with us?"

Astoria smiled at her and looked at Fenris, but he kept his face neutral, watching everyone around - Hawke and Isabela dancing with Lysander, Aveline and Donnic laughing over something, Sandal with his eyes wide and blank, Orana listening politely to Anders' ranting. Yes, he'd miss it, but what was there here for him in the City of Chains?

"No," he said finally, running a hand over Astoria's shoulder tenderly. "There's a home for us in Ferelden. A home that wasn't stolen. There's nothing for us here. Kirkwall seems to be on the brink of imploding on itself."

Merrill tapped her fingers against the wood and then nodded. "I suppose. If ever you should change your mind, Hawke would welcome you."

Fenris frowned but knew he didn't want to get into it with Merrill, as most of his conversations with her ended with him being unnecessarily cruel to her. The night was too good to muddy it with petty arguments.

The music died after some time and everyone left, but not after enjoying their spiced ales and wines, the warm fire and the meals that Orana and Hawke had cooked and baked for everyone. Even Astoria had danced, doing a Ferelden dance with Hawke. Their moves were perfectly coordinated - it was a special, cultural dance that they did in the taverns of Ferelden with a lot of stomping, laughing, clapping and spinning each other. As entertaining as it was to watch Astoria dance, even that ended soon. Laughter and dancing had dominated the night, and in such company as that, no darkness could overwhelm the home.

As Fenris staggered up the stone stairs with Astoria's fingers locked in his own, he couldn't help but let a small smile spread on his face. Down in the foyer, Hawke was shooing Orana off, telling her to get some sleep, he would clean up the mess in the morning. In his empty hand, Fenris carried a bottle of wine that Hawke had given him.

"Let's draw a bath, I don't want to sleep just yet."

Astoria smirked and looked at him sidelong as they climbed the stairs. "Oh?"

Fenris gave her a small smile and led her to the room that Hawke was letting them stay in. They went to the washroom quietly so as not to disturb Lysander, who was in a deep slumber spread out on the bed. Fenris shut the door behind him and worked the cork out of the wine bottle's neck as Astoria drew the bath. Then he lit some candles and began to undo the fastenings of his tunic.

Moments later, he slipped into the warm bath with Astoria. She dipped completely under the surface and came up, wiping the residual water from her eyes. Her hair, which had grown long, uncut and slightly messy, stuck to her back and chest. Her skin was a light brown where the sun had hit it, reflecting off the ocean for the past five months. But everything that she had kept covered was pale and had become unblemished from months without fighting.

Fenris rarely saw her naked in so much light. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but for the past several months they had only been able to meet in a storage closet, and then before that was usually away from camp in the darkness.

But she was a thing to behold in the light. Everything, even the stretch marks from Lysander, the burns and scars. It was all enticing. Fenris growled in the back of his throat and smirked at her as she settled in the bath across from him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he responded and handed her a glass after he poured it. "I've forgotten what you look like in the light."

Astoria blushed, a red creeping up her neck and to her ears. "Yes, well, I am nearing thirty."

"I did not mean it in that way," he rumbled, taking another sip of his wine. His head swam. "Did you have a good night?"

"The best," she replied with a smile. "Your friends are even better than I remember."

Fenris snorted in amusement. "They've changed little. Last time you saw them you were nervous."

"As I should have been," she sighed, relaxing in the bath and letting the water wash over her submerged shoulders. "It was a stressful time."

He was quiet for a moment. "Lysander seemed to enjoy himself."

Astoria smiled, her eyes shut as she leaned her head back against the rim of the bath. "He did. He loves Merrill. He thinks Isabela is... interesting."

"She's not exactly appropriate for little children."

"Not at all," Astoria chuckled. Then her smile fell away and she lifted her head to look at him. "Do they ask you about his markings?"

Fenris furrowed his brow and swallowed another sip of wine, his expression darkening. "No."

"They pretend that it isn't there..."

Fenris nodded once. "They don't wish to make you uncomfortable. Or him. They ask me about mine often."

Astoria bit her bottom lip in thought. "I am the odd one out, out of the three of us. I'm the only one that can't relate to you or him. Does he hate them? Would he talk about them?"

"He still doesn't talk to you about them?"

"No," Astoria frowned.

Fenris sighed and beckoned her over. She moved through the water and he put his glass down, lowering his hands onto her hips and pulling her onto him to straddle him. He settled against the side of the tub. "Lysander is better than we thought originally. He is healing, he will heal. His markings hurt, and they will, but he is lucky still. He can pass as a Dalish elf - since his markings are black. He will not be_ so_ alienated." Fenris rested his head against her chest and wrapped his arms tighter around her. "It's this other one I worry for." He moved one hand to her stomach and shut his eyes, waiting for something, as if the baby would be large enough to kick his hand.

Astoria gulped and ran a hand through his snow white, pin straight hair. "You aren't angry?"

He sighed heavily, not answering. Instead, Fenris flattened his palms on her thighs and kissed the center of her torso. He straightened in his spot, hooked his hands under her knees, and pulled her legs towards him, so their intimate parts touched. Astoria smiled, tears in her eyes. And then he kissed her hard and desperately, and all that happened afterwards was a blur of passion.

When they finally left the bath, the water was barely even lukewarm. Fenris was exhausted, and drunk, he realized as he staggered towards the bed. Astoria crawled in beside him after a moment and he fell asleep clutching her.

* * *

><p>Hunter's wife was a short woman with blond hair, amber eyes and freckles on her nose and cheeks below her eyes. She wasn't a paragon of beauty, but her shy smile was pretty and she was kind enough to Astoria and Fenris, and exceptionally warm to Lysander.<p>

"I just wish we had children of our own," she had said the day that Astoria and Fenris had visited her and Hunter. But Hunter was working and they had been sitting for hours, drinking wine and talking. Lysander had fallen asleep on the floor with their hound, a furry creature that was old and tired.

"I know of a woman in Tantervale who takes in orphans," Astoria explained with a small smile. "She has this particular girl who you'd probably love. Maybe six years old, sweetest little girl ever, and funny too. Her name is Siri. I'll write down how to contact her, if you're interested."

Anna looked at Astoria quietly, then glanced at Lysander and sagged her shoulders. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

And that was when Hunter came back in, a scowl on his face until he saw everyone. "Oh - you've made it back safely," he said, not sounding as angry as he looked. "How was your voyage?"

"Well, thanks," Fenris answered, glad that there was someone else here finally.

"Ah, good then." Hunter excused himself to change out of his heavy templar armor, and then came back after a few moments, pouring himself a hearty glass of wine. "How are things, my dear?" He asked Anna.

"Everything is fine, here," she smiled sweetly at him, but Fenris thought he could see some animosity between them.

Hunter looked at his wife curiously for a moment and then sighed, folding his arms on the wooden table and hunching his shoulders, tired. "I would recommend that you three leave Kirkwall sooner rather than later." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "I came back to a city that wants to put mages to the torch, and the mages feel likewise about the templars. This is the calm before a full-fledged riot, let me tell you."

"That's what we've heard as well. Is it really that bad?" Astoria asked, glancing at her sleeping son.

Hunter scoffed. "That bad and worse, much worse. The Champion helps apostates - and his name is like a rallying cry for a rebel army we didn't know existed. But there's nothing we can do with him without proof." Hunter looked pointedly at Fenris, who tensed and set his jaw, unwilling to give Hawke away and betray the man that had been so good to him for so many years.

"I don't support apostates, and Hawke wouldn't hear the end of it from me if he were to help apostates," Fenris ground out, and it was only half a lie, if that. Yes, he was vocal about his concerns, but he never got in the way and would grudgingly help. He'd done it plenty of times before.

Hunter sighed. "It's of no matter. I don't wish to jail your friend, Fenris. I'm not without fault either, letting your sister go and all."

"It was out of your jurisdiction anyway, in Tevinter," Fenris pointed out. "I would've been glad for you to bring her to the Circle."

Hunter stared at him, half in disbelief and half wary. Astoria slid her hand under the table and ran her fingers over Fenris' thigh, hoping to relax him just a bit.

Anna cleared her throat and reached over to pour another glass of wine for herself. Lysander rolled over on his other side and the dog groaned, stretching and looking at the fire for a moment before dozing off again.

"When Varania contacted me, I told her I wouldn't bring her to the Circle as long as I was able to reunite with my sister," Hunter explained. "I'd be stripped of my templar status if anyone knew."

Fenris supposed he understood. He had almost given up everything to see his sister, and if she had proved of good character, he would have given her everything. He couldn't blame Hunter for doing any differently.

Fenris tensed when he realized Anna was staring at him for the millionth time that night. It was as if she had never seen an elf before. He put his hand on Astoria's on his lap and looked at his glass of wine.

Hunter continued, not noticing his wife's manners. "Regardless, my point is that Kirkwall is not a safe place for anyone. If I could move away, I would. I fear for the state of things here. The Knight Commander is mad, the Knight Captain too dutiful and honorable to call her out for it. Bah." Hunter stood and moved to the fire, throwing in some logs to stoke it.

Fenris shifted his hard gaze back at Anna, and she took a sip of her wine, averting her eyes. How deep she was in her cups, no one really knew. That is until she shook her head and smiled at Astoria. "You and your brother are made out of something rare. I've never met people like you. How did you both meet?"

_You mean why did she marry a marked elf_, Fenris thought bitterly.

"We were slaves, actually," Astoria said, and had the grace not to sound ashamed. "I ran away from home when I was young to get out of an arranged marriage, traveled with a group of troubadours and singers, and I was captured-"

The sound that ripped through the air was unlike anything they had ever heard before. It was a low rumble and then a crack, like lightning, but really more like a mountain dissolving and exploding. The dog was on its feet in an instant, howling, and Lysander rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Fenris jumped and ran towards the door with Hunter, who had fallen back on his arse when the noise went off.

In seconds, everyone was in the street, even sleepy Lysander. Fenris felt Astoria's hand gripping his arm as she gasped, and Anna began to sob.

The sky was red like blood and fire, a hauntingly beautiful beam of light shooting up through the sky from the Chantry in Hightown, destroying the building of its origin. Massive slabs of granite crashed into the courtyard where the Chantry was, stone grinding upon stone audible here, not even a mile away.

"Oh, Maker's breath," Hunter gasped, stunned too much to even move. His blue eyes were wide as saucers as he gazed at the catastrophe. "That's the Chantry."


	61. The End, A New Day

This is it! And it's quite a long one, so I hope you have time for it. Enjoy! =)

* * *

><p>Anna wailed in horror, and Fenris had half a mind to take action. He turned and took Astoria by the arm, Lysander by the shoulder. "We're getting out of here. We're not half a mile from Hawke's, let's get everything we've left there and leave the city."<p>

Hunter looked at them fearfully. "Yes, good idea," he agreed, "go now. Don't even stop at the Champion's."

Lysander's green eyes were planted on the red sky and the beam of... whatever it was. If he was in awe or scared shitless, Fenris couldn't tell. He ran a hand through his son's black hair and nodded to Hunter. People everywhere were running out of their homes to see what was happening - some screaming, some crying, some shouting. It was a night no one would sleep, that much Fenris knew.

"Good-bye," Hunter said quickly to them, not pausing to give a hug or any well-wishing as he raced inside to don his armor. Anna stood, trembling and wailing for a moment before running inside after her husband, not even saying a good-bye to them.

"Come," Fenris commanded, trying to keep his voice calm but stern. He looked at Lysander as he began to move into the street. "You're a strong, brave warrior, aren't you?"

Lysander's solemn gaze flitted away finally from the destruction of the Gallows to his father. "What?"

"You're brave, strong, you've been taught by the best." Fenris praised Lysander, struggling to keep his anxiety from being apparent. He walked briskly with Astoria on his heels, holding Lysander's hand as she pulled him along. "This is nothing your mother and I haven't seen before," he lied, wondering why he was trying to soothe the boy in the face of chaos.

And Fenris was no stranger to chaos. Not with Danarius, not with constantly looking over his shoulder for slavers, not when he had traveled with Hawke. "Remember, I helped kill a dragon. You're safe."

Lysander nodded, swallowing his fear, and squared his young, narrow shoulders. Fenris glanced at Astoria and saw the smile in her eyes. The sickening red lit up half her face.

Yes, Kirkwall would mourn tonight.

Fenris jogged with them behind him to the mansion, nearly breaking the door down before Bodahn had answered.

"Messere, what's happening out there?" Bodahn asked, locking the door behind them, his beard wiggling as he talked. In the foyer, Sandal was playing with his rune stones while Orana stood in a window, staring at the chaos.

"It's the Chantry, I don't know what happened to it," Fenris said quickly, bounding up the stairs to the second floor. "Where's Hawke?" He called down behind him.

Bodahn's face went pale as he answered, "Messere Hawke was called to the Chantry to meet with the Knight Commander and First Enchanter."

Fenris staggered and froze, gripping the railing that overlooked the foyer. Astoria and Lysander went past him and into the room to gather up their things. "Tell me you aren't serious, Bodahn."

"My apologies," Bodahn answered, always so sincere even in the midst of chaos, "It grieves me to say so."

Fenris let out a muttered curse and ran into the room after his wife and child. What little they owned they threw into sacks on their backs and turned to go.

"Come with us," Astoria suggested, noticing that Orana was crying. "Please. Get out of the city."

Fenris scowled but said nothing. "Oh, thank you, messere, but we'd feel better waiting for messere Hawke," answered Bodahn. "My boy here is difficult to move through the streets, even more so with people shouting and running about him."

Astoria nodded, "Very well, I understand. I wish you the best. Orana?"

The little elf had fear on her face but she tried to hide it. "I appreciate your kind offer," she answered, clasping her trembling hands together, "but I feel the same. I would like to wait as well." She forced a small smile and glanced between the three of them, and Fenris realized how far she had also come from slavery. "Good luck and take care."

"You also," Astoria answered, and in a moment they were out the door, into the chaos of the streets. How is they were always escaping cities that seemed to burn around them? Tantervale, Asariel - and they had just barely missed most others in the Imperium.

The red light was done, but a massive column of smoke rose from the Chantry and blocked out the stars. Fenris could smell the burning, could still hear the low groaning of granite and stone falling off the building. The Chantry. Who would do something like that?

Able-bodied men rushed to the scene, and the streets were filled with screaming and shouting. They turned a corner and saw a group of mages fighting a group of templars, and Fenris stopped his advance, turning on his heel and dragging Astoria and Lysander into a dark alley just as a templar cooked inside his armor.

"Why are they fighting?" Lysander asked, sounding surprisingly calm for his age.

"Someone attacked the templars," Fenris answered. "The Chantry. We have to stay off the main roads, try not to let anyone see us. I don't want to get caught up in this. Other than the harbor, there's only one gate out of the city. Let's make it there."

And so they worked their way through the tortuous streets, away from the pretty gardens and villas of Hightown. For the last time, Fenris realized. He had only been in Kirkwall this time for a week, and after this... why would he ever come back? Sure, he'd miss some of his companions, but they paled in comparison to the two new people he had in his life.

Fenris, Astoria and Lysander ducked behind the shadows, pressing close to the walls. The streets were pandemonium. Mages and templars alike moved in groups, clashing together - sending fire and sparks in all directions, the sound of steel pulling from scabbards and armor rattling together, iron boots stomping the cobblestones. Often times they would have to wait until a particular battle ended and either mages or templars left before moving on, costing them about two hours. Fenris lost count of how many people he saw die, and in the back of his thoughts he wondered how Lysander would handle this all. But there was no time now to coddle him.

Fenris dragged Astoria by the wrist away from a dark alley. All they had to do was cross the square and then the rest of the journey would be dark alleys, until the gate. Fenris couldn't think about what would happen at the gate. Would they even be allowed to leave?

They nearly sprinted across the square, until Astoria said, "Wait, wait!"

Fenris slowed and glanced at Lysander, whose eyes were dripping with tears but he was silent while he clutched on to his mother's leathers. Astoria pointed, and Fenris could hear shouting, familiar tones and timbres.

Four people spilled into the square from one of the streets, covered in blood and gore.

"Hawke?" Fenris said lowly, stepping quickly in front of Lysander just in case he was wrong.

The four people were breathless, limping, groaning in pain, but it was them. Varric held Bianca in one hand, huffing and puffing his barrel chest. Isabela's white "dress" was drenched in blood, and if she had any injuries, he couldn't tell. Merrill's staff was broken off at the top and she limped heavily, leaning on it. Hawke's armor was dented and cracked, and his left arm bled freely.

The four others paused, Varric raising Bianca threateningly.

"Hawke, it's me," Fenris called out, reaching behind him and grabbing Lysander's shoulders to make sure he was behind the narrow wall that was Fenris.

It took Hawke a moment, and Varric lowered his beloved crossbow. "Elf!"

"What happened?" Astoria asked, voice shaking.

Isabela stepped forward, and only then did Fenris realized that Merrill was crying. "We're leaving the city," Isabela explained, "I'll tell you everything. But we need to get out. _NOW_."

Not far off, Fenris could hear more shouting, armor shuffling, people screaming as if they were dying, which they probably were. As Isabela, Hawke, Merrill and Varric began to move, limping and injured, Fenris realized that they were pale as ghosts, looking haunted.

"Where's Aveline?" Fenris asked as they fell in line with each other, breaking out into a hobbling jog to get out of the vulnerability of the square.

"She had to stay, keep order in the city," Hawke answered, his voice thin and dry, pained.

"And the abomination?"

Isabela shot him a look and Merrill sobbed into her hand, trying to stifle the sound she made. "I killed him," Hawke muttered, sounding haunted. Fenris paused, but only for a moment. Hawke killed Anders?

"It was the... right thing to do," Hawke breathed, his voice straining with the effort of keeping himself together.

"Shh," Isabela murmured to him, "put it away, Hawke. Until we're out."

Hawke nodded, leading them into an alley bathed in darkness. Fenris held Astoria's hand in his fingers of his off-hand, carrying his unsheathed sword in his other hand. Astoria led Lysander behind her, and Merrill walked behind them, sobbing inconsolably.

Kirkwall was a city burning. Chaos erupted in its streets - the mages fighting with the templars in the open. Fenris found it hard to see how Anders could possibly have a part in such a massive problem, a big enough part where Hawke would have to kill him. Screams pierced the air, the smell of smoke hung between the buildings, constricting their lungs. On the walls of the buildings, flashes of lightning and flames could be seen reflecting from down the corners of the streets. Everywhere they looked there was fighting - but in the dark alleys they managed to go unnoticed, for a short while anyway.

A quarter mile from the city's gates, an arrow whirred by them through the alley, nicking Fenris' shoulder spikes. He ducked and hissed a curse as a group of unidentified men descended upon them from either mouth of the alley. Fenris let go of Astoria's hand, and she went to her daggers as Varric called out a warning.

Fenris ignited his markings, gritting his teeth, to provide some light. He heard some of the others gasp and shout - the sound of steel upon steel somewhere behind him. He shouldered past Merrill, who was working on forming a fireball between her palms, tears still running down her cheeks. The fire cast an eerie glow on the sides of the alley, a bit of warmth on the cold night.

The chaos of the city had seemed to concentrate in the alley. Fenris swung his Sword of Mercy at a wall of thieves, making the smart ones jump back, but slicing into the belly of one of them. His markings made him intimidating, but also a target. An arrow sailed past, slicing open his forehead above his right eye. Behind him, Astoria leaped forward with her daggers out. Isabela was surely doing the same. Fenris could hear the sound of Hawke's sword hacking at someone on the other side of the alley, Bianca's whine as the crossbow was cocked and loaded. Merrill's fireball lobbed over Fenris' head and hit a thief in the chest, making him scream out in surprise. The fire caught on his clothes, and Fenris allowed his markings to dim. There was a burning man, a beacon in the darkness.

Fenris stepped forward, vaguely hearing a man die somewhere off behind him. A mace rebounded off his blade as the burning man fell to his knees, screaming. Warm blood trickled down his forehead, into his hair and eye, half-blinding him. A cackle of lightning, and the alley was bathed in a bright light, purple and hot and filling the air with static. The lightning forked over Fenris' shoulder, snapping as it hit three men, taking two down completely and sending the third staggering towards Fenris. Isabela laughed somewhere behind him, Varric shouted something about Bianca.

The mace that had bounced off Fenris' sword bashed into Fenris' breastplate, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped and fell into the wall, fingers tingling on the grip of his blade. The thief that had hit him laughed, but his laughter turned gargled as Astoria's dagger plunged into his sternum. She shoved the man away from Fenris, stabbing him again in the face, rage overcoming her. The burning man had finally stopped screaming. Another cackle of lightning, and Fenris saw a figure move and strike Astoria with his sword. The blade cut open the better part of her shoulder, and sent her falling with a pained scream.

He didn't even see the thief worm by him, and Astoria's shout wasn't even enough to distract him as he rose slowly to his feet, gasping for air. In his peripheral, as he thrust his sword at a man, he saw Astoria swing her arm, a blade, back behind her, stumbling as she missed her target. Blood stained her leathers.

"No, Lysander -" The panic in her voice was enough to get Fenris' attention now. He swung his sword, and then realized that there was no one else there on his end of the alleyway. His head swiveled, his body pivoted, and he gasped.

A thief, slaver, whatever he was, held a dagger to Lysander's throat, a fist in the boy's hair. Tears streamed down Lysander's face, but any boy and most men would cry as well with the touch of steel at their necks. Fenris snarled menacingly. The thief dragged Lysander off a few steps so that it could be him against everyone and not be backed in by a wall. It took a moment for everyone else to realize what was happening as they finished off the other attackers.

"Let my son go," Astoria cried. Blood poured down her shoulder and dripped off her fingers, holding tightly to her dagger.

Fenris straightened, and took half a step forward. The thief grinned at him wickedly, showing a row of teeth where half were missing. He pressed the blade harder against Lysander's throat, tightening his grip in the boy's hair. Lysander clutched onto the thief's arm and Fenris froze, unwilling to move any closer, just in case.

"I'll give you whatever you want, just let him go!" Astoria begged, and Fenris heard the groan of Bianca as Varric readied her. Varric would be his only hope.

"Lower that crossbow, dwarf," the thief warned, crouching so that he was the same height as Lysander, and Varric's shot would be like to miss.

Fenris growled, tensed and coiled like a spring, fear ripping through him.

"Listen to her, scum," Varric replied, a grim tone in his usual jovial voice.

Merrill stepped lightly towards Astoria, who was on her knees, sobbing in the stones.

"I want money, all that you have, everything of worth," the thief said, and Fenris growled when he saw a spot of blood drip down his boy's neck.

Jewelry and coin purses were thrown at the man's feet, but he looked at them warily. "Weapons, too."

Fenris was the first to put down his blade and kick it towards the man. Astoria's daggers skittered across the stones, spreading out at the man's feet. Merrill's staff, Bianca (with a curse from Varric), Isabela's blades and Hawke's as well - all pooled around the man in a deadly pile of steel and wood.

The thief grinned when he looked at what he had acquired. All that steel and gold for the price of a life. It was a small price to pay, Fenris thought, though his rage rippled through him and he stood shaking.

"Let him go," Astoria pleaded, her voice thick with tears. The thief chuckled wickedly.

"I never said I would, sweetheart."

"Be ready," Fenris heard Merrill whisper.

The thief narrowed his black eyes. "What was that, knife-ear?"

Fenris stood, snarling at the man. And then Merrill did something, that she had done so many times before but Fenris rarely ever appreciated her abilities. A wave of energy, thin and ribbon-like, rippled out from Merrill. The reach of the spell hit the thief and he swayed on his feet, stunned.

Lysander pushed on the thief's arm to get it away from his neck, and the thief stumbled backwards a step. Fenris saw his opportunity. He bounded forward, slamming heavily into the thief and making the man fall on his stomach with an _oof._

Fenris straddled the man's back, crouched low to the ground. He ground his right heel into the man's hand that carried the dagger, crushing his knuckles into the stone of the alleyway. The stun wore off, and the man began to struggle, screaming out as his fingers broke one by one under the pressure.

Putting all of his weight on his right foot, and then stomped his left foot into the man's back, hearing a rib or two snap and crack. Lysander was sobbing into his mother's shoulder as she cried out in relief and thanked Merrill, who gathered up her staff.

Fenris felt all eyes on him, but he didn't care at all for it. He applied as much pressure as he could on the man's broken hand, making him scream out in agony. Fenris then crouched and fisted his hand in the man's hair, just as he had done to Lysander.

"You almost killed my son, you fucking fool," Fenris growled, bending low to say it in the thief's ear. He yanked back on the man's head as he coughed up a handful of blood, gasping and blubbering, crying out in pain. Fenris rarely swore in Common, but this was severe enough that he didn't care.

Fenris knelt on the man's back with his left leg, still crushing the thief's right hand under his heel. "I don't know how I'd like to kill you," he rumbled.

"Please, please ser, I did not mean to -"

Fenris slammed the man's face into the stones of the alley, hearing his nose break. The man wailed out in anguish. He yanked the head up again, and then reached for the dagger under the thief's broken hand, having no problem prying it from the bruised, bloodied fingers. Fenris trailed the blade delicately down the side of the man's face, playing with him wickedly.

"If I weren't in a rush I'd flay you alive, kill you slowly and painfully," Fenris threatened, his voice dripping with malice.

The man sputtered, blood and a tooth flying from his mouth as he cried, and Fenris dragged the dagger across the man's throat, killing them the way he had almost killed Lysander.

"Shit, Elf," Varric said as Fenris wiped the blade clean on the thief's black shirt. Fenris turned, glaring at them all, but softened when Astoria met his gaze. She was standing now, holding Lysander in her arms so that he didn't see what his father had just done.

He realized that they all feared him, at least in that moment. Maybe he had gone over the line, but he had never felt so angry in his life. Fenris picked up his sword and Astoria's daggers, and went to her.

"Are you alright, son?" He asked, sheathing Astoria's daggers for her since her hands were full. Blood was still running freely down from her shoulder, and on his own body from his forehead and into his eye, but he cared little. Lysander picked his head up from Astoria's neck and nodded, his green eyes widening as they fell on the dead thief that had tried to kill him. While the others gathered up their own weapons, Fenris decided to keep the blade that belonged to that man, putting it in one of his pouches.

"I'll carry him," Fenris offered, "your arm will bleed too much if you try."

"I can walk," Lysander told them, and Astoria let him down. The alley began to stink of death, with the burning man and the pools of blood. Fenris squatted and inspected Lysander's neck, but the injury was only superficial and bled little.

"Very well," Fenris told him softly, standing and taking a breath. Astoria put a hand on his neck and leaned up on her toes to kiss his cheek, tears running silently down her face.

"We're ready?" Hawke asked grimly, rolling his shoulders. If anyone else had gotten injured further in that battle, they didn't show it.

"Yes," Fenris murmured, taking Lysander's hand in his own and following the Champion. They left that wretched alley and made their way, exhausted, to the gate.

The gate had been left abandoned in the ruckus - whoever normally guarded it were out in the streets, trying and failing miserably to keep the peace. They moved under the great archway silently, and put the burning city behind them.

Hours later, just as the sun was going to rise, they stopped to rest. The Palasene Forest was dense with tall trees with thick trunks, pine groves where only dead pine needles carpeted the forest floor. No one had said a thing since they had left the city, everyone too shocked or sad to speak. At about three in the morning, Fenris had started to carry Lysander, who was too tired to walk further, and by dawn his legs were trembling.

Merrill was too exhausted to cry any longer, and Isabela and Varric were too shocked to say much of anything. When they all collapsed in a pine grove, in the gray twilight before dawn, Fenris was nearly asleep as soon as he laid down, Astoria on his other side.

When he awoke it was mid-afternoon, and the forest was cool and wet. A chill rain began to fall through the leaves of the trees, and Lysander was curled in a ball, shivering. Astoria was across the camp, where Hawke was cleaning her wound with a serious expression. Isabela and Varric were sitting close to Hawke and Astoria, grimacing at the look of her wound. Merrill was pale, leaning against a pine tree with a grievous look on her face. Fenris got to his feet and went to her.

"Merrill," he said as he approached, "I wanted to thank you, for coming through for us in Kirkwall."

Her green elven eyes went to Lysander and she gave a small smile. "He's just a boy, he can't be caught up in things like this."

"I know," Fenris agreed, "thank you, though."

Merrill nodded, always nice to him, and he moved away towards everyone else. He noticed a few locks of white hair, stained dark with dried blood.

As he approached, Astoria looked up at him and smiled, then winced as Hawke wrinkled his nose and scraped at something on her shoulder.

"I still don't know what happened in Kirkwall," Fenris said, stepping around so he could look at Astoria's shoulder. It wasn't as bad as he thought the night before with all the blood, but it wasn't anything to laugh about either. Now that it was being cleaned, it bled a bit more, but not like it had the night before.

"I," Hawke began, "was to meet the Knight Commander and First Enchanter in the Gallows. I went, and they were arguing of course, and that's when I saw the Chantry... Anders did that. He killed so many people in that act, and I don't know how he did it. It doesn't matter anyway. Then... Meredith decided to invoke the Rite of Annulment. I didn't agree that all the mages should die because of Anders' actions. I went with Orsino... and he ended up... an abomination. We had to kill him, and then Meredith. It was awful. I've never seen anything like it. Remember that idol we found in the Deep Roads? She had been using it as a sword, and it corrupted her. We killed her, and Cullen... who finally knew how crazy she was, let us escape."

Fenris sat down across from Astoria to process this as the rain fell.

"So... what now?" Fenris asked, glancing at Lysander who still slept.

Hawke shrugged his shoulders and looked sadly at the wound he was trying to repair. "It's now time for me to disappear. The templars should have killed me, for going against Meredith. Kirkwall... it must all be gone now. It's my fault."

"It's not your fault, Hawke," Varric replied, his square jaw set, "Anders sparked it all."

A wolf howled off in the distance, and Fenris' felt chills down his spine. He listened as another wolf answered the call, and the two mourned.

Hawke began to wrap Astoria's shoulder in a bandage. "We'll have to change this often, and pray it doesn't get infected. I have some tonics, though."

"We went to your mansion, as the city was falling. Orana, Bodahn, Sandal... they were waiting for you."

Hawke looked at Astoria grimly. "I couldn't stop there... They know that if something happens, there's a stash of money for them and they should leave."

Astoria nodded. "I'm sure they were out in time, Hawke."

He pressed his lips together tightly. "I hope so."

Fenris helped Astoria stand when she was done, and as he led her back towards where Lysander lay, he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Still ill," she confessed. "Is that what you were asking about?"

"Yes. We don't have a healer anymore that can see if it's alright."

"We didn't exactly in the beginning, either."

Fenris smirked and then shivered, as the rain not only made him cold but wet as well. Lysander stirred.

"I never imagined you could get so angry," Astoria said softly after a moment of looking at her son, "you did that for Lysander?"

Fenris sat down on the ground as Astoria tried to clean the cut on his forehead. "I did, yes."

"That was..."

"Strange of me?" Fenris asked bitterly, wryly.

"No," Astoria shook her head, "It was admirable. I just didn't know you... cared that much."

Fenris dropped a palm on Astoria's leg as she scraped the dried blood from his face and hair. "I do, however. Would you still have me? Even as the cruel monster that I am?"

"You aren't," Astoria replied softly, "You're a man who was protecting his family."

"He deserved worse," Fenris bit out, making a fist in Astoria's leathers.

"He did," she agreed, and then kissed his forehead beside his cut.

"Let's move, we have three, maybe four hours of light left," Hawke called out, sounding exhausted and mournful. Lysander was awake, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

As they all began to move, and the wolves cried out all around them.

* * *

><p>"You're afraid of me?"<p>

Lysander looked up at his father, but there was no surprise in his young jade eyes, almond-shaped and framed by beautiful lashes like his mother's. His little, lyrium-engraved hands squeezed the wineskin a bit, uncomfortable where he stood at the bank of the river. Clear water tumbled over stones and boulders, flowing down the river to meet the Waking Sea to the south.

"No," Lysander began to answer then shook his head, "I mean... how... how do you do it? How can you kill someone? I have nightmares of all the people I've seen dead... but I've never killed anyone."

Fenris sighed and sat back down on the bank of the river, bending his knees and resting his elbows on them. He locked his fingers together and considered. "I... I don't like killing anyone, Lysander. They haunt you, don't they?"

Lysander nodded, biting on his bottom lip as he strapped the wineskin up to his little belt. Fenris sighed again, and scanned the riverbank opposite of them. A fox slipped through the trees, sniffing and moving silently.

"In the moment... you just have to tell yourself that they'll kill you if you don't get them first. It doesn't make it right, but it doesn't make you a worse person. You have to defend yourself, and those you care about."

Lysander settled down, sitting a couple feet beside Fenris. He plucked a stone from the forest floor and turned it over in his hands.

"What would you have done if Merrill didn't help?"

"Why?"

Lysander wouldn't look at him. "I don't know what I would have done."

"I would've gotten you back," Fenris lied. "I don't know how either, but I would've done it. I'd kill a hundred men if I had to."

Lysander held the stone in his fingers and stared at it for a moment before turning to look at his father. The cut on his neck had healed over by now, a weak scar that would soon fade. It killed to see it. Fenris couldn't shake the memory of seeing that knife on Lysander's throat.

"I want to be home."

Fenris smirked at his son. "I know. I feel the same."

Lysander dropped the stone, watched it roll down the riverbank and into the clear stream, and then leaned forward with his chin in his palm. Whenever they'd all stop to make camp, Lysander liked to go off somewhere, still in eyesight, and sit and be alone. In the first couple days since leaving Kirkwall, he had talked little and woke up most nights screaming and thrashing.

"We'll be home soon," Astoria said from behind them as she approached. Her wound was slow to heal, but it was coming along. Two weeks ago they had left Kirkwall, and they had luckily not lost anyone to infections or diseases. Fenris still had a nasty, huge bruise on his chest from where the mace had hit his armor, but that was the end of his injuries. "In Cumberland we can likely hitch a boat to Highever."

"Nothing sounds better," Fenris said, giving her a small smile. In truth, he would be glad to say good-bye to his companions for now. He hadn't spent any time alone with Astoria and Lysander since... ever, he realized. After they had found the boy, they never traveled alone except for in the ship from Antiva City to Kirkwall, and even then they were always surrounded. "All I want is some peace and quiet."

The others grieved intensely for all they had lost - Anders and Kirkwall both. Fenris had never been too attached to either, so he didn't feel the way they did. But it dampened their spirits nonetheless. Merrill was almost always crying, and Hawke was somber and quiet, while Isabela and Varric had only stopped making their jokes.

"And this blasted forest stretches forever," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. Astoria knelt between them and ran her fingers through her son's hair.

"We should be coming out on the other side of it very soon."

It was now nearing the end of February, and winter had been chilly, but not unbearable this side of the Waking Sea. They were all half-starved, exhausted and sick with a cold, but nothing serious. It made their travels short and slow, and Astoria did not appear to be gaining any weight, which worried Fenris.

"Well, I'm off to hunt with Varric," Astoria told them, kissing both Lysander and Fenris on the cheek before she stood. "I'll be back before nightfall. Love you, my sweet child."

"I love you too, mother," Lysander answered with a smile on his young face. Astoria smirked at Fenris and turned, leaving.

After a moment, Lysander pointed out, "You never say it to her."

He felt a heat rushing to his neck and ears, looking down at the river before them. "I find that words don't mean as much as your actions."

Lysander raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Do you love my mother?"

Fenris swallowed hard and wiped the dirt off the knees of his leggings. "Er... yes... yes, I do. I loved her before I met you."

Lysander had a small grin as he looked at his father. "Why don't you tell her?"

"She knows anyway," Fenris answered. "I'm going with you both, to Highever."

Lysander shifted his gaze to the trees and the sky, the specks of light filtering down in thin columns through the branches of the trees. "What's Ferelden like?"

Fenris scoffed. "I couldn't say. I've never been."

"Mother says it's cold."

"I've heard that it is, yes."

"Colder than here?"

"It snows there, so yes."

Lysander wrinkled his nose. "I've never seen snow."

"Perhaps we'll be there before winter ends, you might see it soon."

Lysander stared solemnly at the river, absent-mindedly tracing the markings on one hand with the fingers on his other. Fenris watched him for a minute, feeling so badly for a child that had suffered so much because of his situation, being born to the parents he was born to. "I am sorry that you have those," Fenris apologized. Lysander looked at him, nonplussed. "Your markings," Fenris clarified.

"You have them too," Lysander said, confused.

_You'd never have them if I hadn't gotten involved with your mother._ But Fenris didn't say that. "I was an adult when I got them. You... you're beyond your years, yes, but you're still a child."

Lysander pressed his lips together in thought, and then he tilted his head. "How old were you?"

"Eighteen. I'm twenty-nine now, for another two months anyway."

"You said that you'll probably lose your ability to use the markings, right?"

Fenris nodded. Lysander continued. "Because you've been getting sick, right?"

Again, Fenris nodded. "So when I'm twenty, I'll probably get sick too?"

Fenris clasped his hands together and opened his mouth. "Er... yes, most likely." He did not want to say how painful it was, how the nightmares consumed one's entire existence in those fevers, leaving him useless and dead to the world for days on end.

Lysander looked mournfully at his hands, gazing at the black markings of lyrium on them. "But they don't make me," he reflected quietly. "I'm still me, with or without them."

The words struck a chord in Fenris. He had always seen himself as a lyrium warrior - never as a hot-blooded man. He was a wolf, an animal, a slave, an elf - little more than that. For Lysander to have so much insight... it made him pause to think, and then he felt cheated. Eventually his markings would only be that - markings. How would he see himself afterwards? He had never thought of it.

Lysander got to his feet and unsheathed his little iron sword. "Do you want to spar with me? If you aren't busy?"

Fenris blinked and looked up at his son, and felt a flicker of pride pulsing from within his chest. His bow-shaped lips curled into a smile and he pulled himself to his feet. "Let me get my sword, son."

* * *

><p>"So this is really it, Elf?" Varric put his fists on his waist and grinned up at Fenris. "You're leaving us all for good?"<p>

"This is it," Fenris answered, a half-smile on his face.

"You're all welcome in Highever, any time. Please, visit us if you're ever in Ferelden," Astoria told them. "You've all become friends to me. Thank you for everything."

Isabela "awwed" and Merril gave Astoria a hug before crouching down and giving Lysander a leather necklace with a small crystal pendant. Hawke clapped a hand to Fenris' shoulder, his weary brown eyes lighting up just the slightest. In the three weeks they had all been on the road, Hawke had grieved tremendously, lost weight and usually couldn't sleep. It was hard to see someone like him carry that kind of guilt around, but Fenris could do nothing about it. Hawke was a man grown, almost his own age, and he could fight his own battles.

"We'll miss you, my friend."

"And I you," Fenris replied, trying not to shrug out of the touch. "You've been a good friend to me."

Hawke half-smiled as Isabela hugged Astoria and Lysander likewise, and then even him. Her light-hearted nature was returning slowly, but she didn't make any jests in their farewell. Everyone struggled with their own grief and loss. Isabela let him go and Hawke hugged Astoria and shook Lysander's hand.

"You be good," Hawke smiled at Lysander, "take good care of your mum and dad."

Lysander grinned and nodded. "I will, ser."

Hawke nodded, pleased by the answer, and looked at Astoria. "I'll be heading to Ghislain, I hear it's quiet there, and then I'll be in Ferelden. Even the King Alistair understands, if he remembers me from a few months ago. If I need protection, he may give it."

"Very well, Hawke," Fenris replied. "If you do, visit us."

"Of course."

The bell rang on the ship they'd be taking across the Waking Sea. It wasn't a huge vessel, but it would do the job. The journey would take them somewhere around a week to reach Highever, likely a couple days more. He was glad to be out of the forest, but not glad to be getting on a ship again, so soon. It was better still than spending months walking around the narrow sea that separated them from their destination.

"Take care, you three," Varric said.

"Take care," Fenris replied, and threaded his fingers in Lysander's hand. Astoria smiled at them, and they all turned to go, the three of them (and maybe another) - a family at last.

"Farewell," Fenris heard someone say behind him as he went with Astoria and Lysander down onto the docks, answering the calling of the bell of their awaiting boat. He waved over his shoulder behind him and smiled as a cold wind swept up from over the Waking Sea in the south. Cumberland stood, a modest city, behind them, as did the last friends he had in all the world.

That morning they had all had a couple ales in a quaint tavern in Cumberland, said their long-winded good-byes and such, so now it didn't feel unsatisfactory to leave. Fenris was grinning as he led his wife and son towards the ship. Lysander squeezed his hand excitedly.

"We're finally going home," Astoria breathed, sighing and chuckling to herself. "I can't believe it."

Fenris looked sidelong at her and smiled again. There was no one he'd rather be with, he realized, as the pale, early setting sun bathed her face in a light as beautiful as his memories. The wind tossed her unkempt hair, the bite of it cold. But he felt so warm.

They were shown onto the ship, and waved fervently as the vessel pulled away from the harbor at the friends they were leaving behind. Varric shot off a bolt from Bianca that had streamers and tiny pieces of crackling explosives tied to it before the arrow caught fire and pierced the surface of the ocean. Lysander oohed and awwed, and Fenris laughed, snaking his lean arms around Astoria's waist as they all stood at the railing. He rested his chin on the crook of her shoulder and pressed his lips to her hair.

"I love you, you know," he whispered, splaying his fingers on her stomach, wondering if there was anything - anyone - in there.

Astoria squirmed around, a smile bright on her face, and she threw her arms over his shoulders. "I love you, Fenris. I'm sure you knew it long ago."

He applied pressure to the small of her back, and pressed her against the railing of the side of the ship, his mouth descending on her own. Vaguely he could hear whooping from the docks, laughter and clapping, cheering. It didn't matter. Fenris kissed her hard and deep, and Lysander threw his little, lyrium-engraved arms around them.

Fenris chuckled against Astoria's soft neck and ran a hand through Lysander's black hair, ruffling it and still holding his dear wife close, flush against him. The wind took power in the sails of the ship, and Fenris could hear the water making way for them all. He pulled his mouth from her neck and looked back at the harbor, his friends now mere specks standing on the docks.

Astoria laughed and ran her fingers up and down Fenris' arm, smiling sweetly at Lysander. "Are you ready to go home, Lysander?"

The solemn little boy that Fenris had met in Asariel months ago smiled at her. Fenris didn't see the lyrium, the trauma, the sadness and burden that the boy carried. He saw much more in the child, his child. And he realized Astoria saw him the same way.

Yes, he loved her. He'd continue to love her. He'd show her the same devotion she had shown him. He'd show both of them.

* * *

><p>"So... what do you think of Highever?" Astoria asked, trailing her fingers tenderly up his curved spine. Fenris subconsciously straightened his posture, light green eyes taking in the Ferelden town, the first time he had ever set foot on Ferelden land.<p>

Highever was much more modest than he expected. Homes with thatched roofs lined the streets, markets selling mostly seafood and shipping parts greeted them on their walk away from the harbor.

"Do you see yourself spending the rest of your life here?" Astoria inquired. Fenris gazed out at the town around him, wrinkling his nose at the smell. The town was situated in a dip between the line of cliffs, a wall keeping the ocean away. The roads rose steeply up the slope, eventually leveling out on the plateau above. Ferelden men, women and children went about their daily lives - dressed up in wool and leather, warm enough on the last cold days of the spring.

"It's... quaint," Fenris replied. The corner of his lip curled slightly. Lanterns swung in the breeze, lining the streets.

Two weeks it had taken to sail from Cumberland to Highever - a beautiful sail close to the shore, but a restless one. Fenris had been more than eager to get off the ship. Now it was the end of March, and it had been about a year since Astoria had shown up in Kirkwall. What a difference a year makes, Fenris had thought.

But Highever had a charm to it that the grand cities of the Free Marches and Tevinter never possessed. A tavern with stone walls and a thatched roof sat before them as they climbed the streets, the wooden sign in front of it with an engraving of a dancing wolf. The tavern emitted smells of smoked meat, ale, wine and smoke. Music drifted lazily into the streets, smoked curled up into the sky, a pale blue with clouds in the distance but of no threat yet.

Lysander was just as wary of his new home. He held Astoria's hand and watched around them. The common folk didn't know what the make of them - a marked, elven man with stark white hair and a little boy with similar, but black markings.

Astoria led them up the streets, going by her vague memory of the town. They spent a fair amount of money on a horse, firewood and food and wine. Everything else would come tomorrow. Fenris strapped the supplies up to the horse and then looked pointedly at Astoria.

"Alright, I'll give you a leg up."

She arched an eyebrow. "What?"

He glanced at her belly, which had a small bump to it. He wasn't sure if he was imagining it, and he hadn't been able to see her naked and in substantial light in a long time, not since Kirkwall. That was another thing he hated about traveling on ships. By the time he was done being on them, he was enormously hungry for her - to bite and kiss and touch her all over, see what he was doing, and watch every way her body reacted to him.

They still hadn't told Lysander, and the boy hadn't suspected anything. Not while his mother still looked the same to him. But Fenris knew better. Whether or not Astoria was in denial, he noticed some difference. The tiny swell of her belly, the way her breasts felt larger in his hands, how easily tears came to her eyes now (of joy, most often than not).

Astoria rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, don't be silly, Fenris, I can walk." She turned and began up the road, and Fenris offered the seat on the horse to Lysander, who refused it in favor of walking. With a sigh, Fenris took the reigns to the horse and followed behind his wife, hoping her memory would serve her well enough to lead them to her old home in time for nightfall.

The plateau was a vast land rolling in low waves with hills of frozen grass. The main road that led south from Highever's port was muddy and slow-going, and it curved through farmlands and homes, sparsely laid taverns and even a teryn's castle. Cattle, horses, alpacas, goats and sheep roamed the farms - dogs bayed and howled.

The pale sun was a couple hours from the horizon when Astoria laughed. "There. There it is. We found it."

Fenris followed her gaze, and his eyes settled on a modest house built of stones, with a thatched roof and a wooden porch, its steps rotted and broken. From the outside, all but the wall needed repair, even the two chimneys. The home sat in the center of several acres, but Fenris had trouble guessing how much exactly it was. The grass was overgrown, and a barn not far from the home also was in a bit of need of repair. Where Astoria's family had once grown crops was now a tangled mess of vegetation, and would all need to be dug up.

The fields had potential though, and if nothing else, it would be a beautiful place to live. In the distance a forest began, but before that lay other farms as well. Astoria looked back at Fenris and Lysander, and gave them a look that was half excited and half apologetic for the state of things here.

"It isn't anything we can't fix, _mellita,_" Fenris swept his gaze across the landscape before him. "It will be a while before it's... decent, I fear."

Astoria shrugged, and Fenris noticed a hand go to her belly. _You know in your heart that there's something, someone, in there._ But he said nothing more, watching Lysander as he appraised what he saw.

"It's smaller than I remember," Astoria said, her hand falling away.

"You were fourteen when you left home, were you not?"

She smirked and looked at him. "I was. Everything is grand and beautiful when you're young, isn't it?"

"I don't remember," Fenris replied with a wry snort, and then closed his fingers around her wrist. He continued walking and raised her hand to his mouth, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist.

The followed the way up to the house, pausing in front of the porch so Fenris could tie the horse up to the columns. He unsheathed his sword, commanded Lysander to stay with the horse, and led Astoria inside while she readied her bow.

But the house wasn't full of squatters or brigands. It wasn't falling apart so terribly inside, where only the cold and the heat hit it instead of the rains and snows. The home had been left the way... well, it had been left when Astoria's parents had gone to Denerim to fight with the young King.

It was a thousand years ago, and yet... only eight. Portraits hung dusty and faded on the walls - and Fenris stopped to get a good look at them all after calling out to Lysander that all was safe. Astoria's mother was a strong-looking woman with brown hair, a pleasant smile and a scar on her neck that went pink and vertical. Astoria's father was a hardy looking man with gray hair, a beard and piercing blue eyes, solemn like Lysander's and yet strong. In the portraits, the two children were with them - Astoria as a young girl with Hunter, a shade older and bigger.

Fenris wiped his hand on the portraits, sending clouds of dust drifting across the rooms. He turned slowly, trying to take in everything. The early evening sun filtered in, slanting through the windows, broken and unbroken and through old, decrepit shades. Fenris moved away from the living room to find Astoria in a small, extra room, a study. She was reading through old letters, tears remaining in her eyes without falling. Fenris curled an arm around her as Lysander peeked in the room, smiled at them, and slipped into another room.

"Are you alright, _mellita_?"

She wiped at her eyes and smiled at him. "Yes. I'm great. This is... our new home, then?"

He hummed affirmatively, running his palm down her waist, curling his fingers around her hip.

"Let's dig this all up tomorrow, shall we?" He offered. "The day grows late and we have cause to celebrate. We've made it, and I have wine."

* * *

><p>Lysander was still fast asleep in Hunter's old room when Astoria and Fenris woke up in front of the fire, which had been reduced to smoldering embers in the living room.<p>

His arms around her had gone still for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder, frowning at the scars of the lash marks on her skin. Some foreign bird sang outside of their home, _their_ home. Fenris smiled at the thought.

Astoria stretched and yawned, and Fenris found himself unlacing her leathers. They had slept in their armor last night for fear of any bandits or squatters that may want to raid them. But sunlight brought a new day, and even bandits had to be remorseful sometime. Fenris saw this as a safe time, at least until they had some mabari to warn of intruders.

"Mmm, Fenris?" Astoria mumbled, waking up slowly as he tugged at her armor, trying to get it off of her. He found himself moving, positioning his body on hers, propped up on a knee.

"Mhm?" Fenris asked, not stopping his advance. He pulled her armor off of her torso, and then her tunic from her waist over her head. He ran a palm over her breastband and her stomach, and pulled away from her to look at her.

"What?" Astoria's voice was more curious than anything, and she chuckled. "What are you doing?"

Fenris growled hungrily and put both of his hands on her stomach, fingers splayed and gentle.

"You're different," he told her. "How can you deny you're with child?"

Astoria frowned, and tried to pull him down by the shoulder, back onto her, but he wouldn't budge.

"I don't deny it," she explained, "it's just... I fear the worst for it. I don't want..."

Fenris shut his eyes, and took a breath before looking at her. "You don't want another?"

"Do you?"

"Don't avoid the question," he commanded softly, falling back down onto his elbows, his arms on either side of her.

"I don't want a child that's hurt by anything,"_ meaning his markings,_ he knew. "I don't want to lose another because of what's happened, what we are."

"What I am, you mean."

Guilt flashed across her face. "No, I'm not-"

Fenris touched his lips to hers to silence her, and then smiled. "It's the truth of it. Don't deny that much, at least." He nudged a knee in between her thighs and sighed against her collarbone. "I have no intention of losing anyone, to the Imperium or anyone else. This is my life now. I will stay with you until the end of my days, Astoria," his voice was a low growl, quiet and gentle but strong and true. "If you would have me."

"Nothing would make me happier."

"Then nothing will keep me from you."

* * *

><p>The Spring drifted into Summer, and Summer waned away to memory - pleasantly and fleetingly in the bucolic, rolling hills and cliffs of Highever. They had two additions to the household before the baby came - two elven midwives that Astoria had hired. It was just as well - Fenris had experience delivering babies. But the midwives had commanded Astoria to stay abed, and Fenris had to slow down the work on the home. Not that he hadn't made enough progress. All summer they had spent fixing the home and preparing a manageable section of the fields for a garden. Fenris getting ill at least every few weeks did not help, either, but they made slow progress. The home was now livable, and clean, though it had taken a considerable amount of work.<p>

Fenris' birthday had passed earlier that Spring, Astoria's in the end of the summer and finally Lysander's. He was getting better, working through his young trauma, but it was a slow and aching process. Fenris and Astoria were always there to help him, and quiet him when he had his nightmares and soothe him. He was excited, however, for the baby to come, and was looking forward to being a big brother.

They received news of Hawke and everyone else occasionally. Hawke was traveling in Orlais, trying to keep a low profile. Isabela and Merrill were with him. Varric had returned to Kirkwall, and Aveline was still doing her duty in the City of Chains. Hunter and Anna, with their blond, adopted girl Siri, had fled Kirkwall when things grew too dire to stay, and now lived in Wilder - the lakeside village where Fenris and Astoria had first gotten drunk together on the pier, watching the sunset. Long ago, so long ago.

Varania was in Antiva, and she kept in touch with Dannis. She expressed to them that she wanted to travel to see the new baby when it came, but she couldn't afford passage. Fenris was glad that she was making an honest living, at the very least.

And at home, Fenris was enjoying himself, for the first time since he could remember. He could relax - his only worry being Astoria and the new baby. She had awful nightmares, which the midwives dismissed as being normal. She was sick no longer, however, and that at least Fenris was thankful for. After he had explained to the midwives their particular situation - with the lyrium and all - they seemed to not be too outwardly worried. But it had been done before - not by Fenris, but by others. That's why Astoria was going to be captured as well as him. The fact that she could carry the child eased his fears, but not completely. His worries always lurked in the back of his mind.

But the elven midwives were helpful, if slightly annoying. Talli was the daughter of Arlain, but they both had experience and were the only midwives that they could afford while still working on their home and buying what they'd need for the winter.

They'd had three false labors in the past week. It was so distressing to Fenris that he wouldn't leave the home for more than a few minutes at a time.

"Leave," Astoria groaned at him that Saturday, hands on her swollen belly. "Please. Go do something, you're making me nervous." She hadn't slept in two days.

Fenris looked at her under a fringe of white hair, then sighed in frustration. He stood from where he had been sitting on the windowsill, looking at the fields that they owned together now. He crossed his arms and walked towards her, frowning.

"And what could be more important than being here with you?" Fenris asked, unfolding his arms and running a hand on her stomach. She was more beautiful than ever like this, he thought. In the recent months he could hardly keep his hands off of her. Something about knowing that he had a part in that, that he had created the child in her, it awakened in him a primal feeling he'd never experienced before.

Astoria shook her head. "You're making me nervous, Fenris. The baby isn't coming today."

He smirked and arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say that just yet, _mellita_. We've had three false alarms this week." He sat down on the edge of the bed and his lip curled a bit more. "I hope you plan on having the baby before I get ill again."

Astoria rolled her eyes at him. "As if I could control it."

He made a small chuckling noise and leaned down to kiss the swell of her belly. In all honesty, that was another fear of his. His illnesses were sporadic and intense, but relatively short when he was sick. The first time it had happened, the midwives had lingered over him until Astoria shooed them away.

"I'd like to be there for this one... I missed your last one."

Astoria chuckled and reached for him, locking their fingers together. "All you missed was me screaming for six hours."

Fenris smiled and crawled onto the bed with her, leaning on an elbow and kissed her neck. He pulled the covers over both of them and ran his hand down her body.

The familiar hunger twisted in his core, and somehow he found himself naked and on top of her a few minutes later. Astoria laughed and arched slightly as his teeth grated against her soft neck and collarbone. The afternoon sunlight drifted in through the windows, Lysander was playing outside, likely riding the horse. The midwives, well... Fenris didn't care where they were.

He ran his palm over the swell of her stomach and to her thighs, kneading the skin and enjoying the warmth and softness. Fenris kissed down the center of her chest and smiled against her belly.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" He asked, and it wasn't the first time. Astoria laughed and ran her fingers through his silky hair.

"I don't know, my love," she replied, "what do you think?"

Fenris pushed on one of her thighs and settled between them, tenderly running his fingers along her skin. "I couldn't decide. I will love it either way."

He pushed into her and stifled his own groan through a clenched jaw. Astoria moaned softly, but seemed to be in some level of pain. "No matter how many times I have you," Fenris rumbled as he began to move, "it is never enough."

They were tangled in the sheets as the afternoon shed its light into the room. Fenris threw his head back as he gritted his teeth and came undone, but just as Astoria dug her fingers in his arms and cried out. "Fenris! Get them, get the midwives!"

He struggled to catch his breath, gaining control of himself again. "Wh- what? Why?"

Astoria took her hands from him and they went to her stomach. "Oh, Maker's shit. Fenris, please-"

He jumped out of the bed, clutching a pillow to his groin as he went for the door. "Midwives!" He shouted as he cracked the heavy door, "Talli! Arlain!"

He turned and gathered up his clothes, trying to change into them before they came into the room. The elven midwives were there in seconds, their little feet padding quietly on the wooden floors. Talli, the daughter, was surprised when she came in the room to see his chest bared, lacing up his breeches. He scowled at her and threw his tunic on as Arlain asked Astoria questions.

"When was your last contraction? Have you lost your water yet?"

Fenris stood nearby, feeling useless as Arlain and Talli draped blankets over Astoria's propped legs and inspected her. Arlain gave Fenris a knowing glance, and Talli blushed furiously, embarrassed that she knew what they had done.

"Hmm," Arlain mumbled as she pulled her hands away from Astoria and washed them in a washing bowl. "You should find your son, Ser Fenris." She told him as she dried her hands with a clean rag. "You are going to have a child."

* * *

><p>"Push, my Lady," Talli told Astoria from where she was crouched on the bed beside her mother, Arlain. Lysander knelt beside his mother on the bed, up by her face, holding her right hand. Fenris had pulled up a chair and held her other hand.<p>

"Push, Astoria," Fenris echoed Talli, kissing her knuckles. He had lost circulation in his hand long ago, but did not mind. He was pale, feeling sick with nerves, and had waited on her bed side for seven hours now. Astoria had screamed and cried for seven hours, and begged for some relief from the pain but other than the remedies the midwives gave her, there was nothing else for her. Fenris felt terrible for her, and he wished he could ease her pain.

Astoria cried out, and Fenris looked at his father in fear. "Push, push now!" He heard one of the midwives call out.

It was no pretty thing, childbirth. Fenris had never been so close to one. Still, his anxiety was mixed with exhaustion and joy, and the time seemed to pass too quickly. As Astoria pushed, he wondered if he was indeed ready for this - a screaming child. That was if the child lived, anyway.

Suddenly he felt that he needed air, time to think alone in quiet. "Push, m'lady, I see the head." And that was the end of it. Fenris felt his hand shaking as he kissed Astoria's knuckles again and squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. He could do this, he told himself, he could do this a thousand times over.

Astoria screamed. Lysander hugged her, and the midwives kept shouting words of encouragement. Fenris felt nauseous, frightened even, but he did not let her hand go.

"As hard as you can now, m'lady," Talli had to shout to be heard.

Fenris leaned close to her as she panted. "I can't," she groaned in pain, a sheen of sweat on her brow, "I can't do this, anymore."

Arlain bit her lip and Lysander had tears in his eyes, upset as seeing his mother in such pain. Fenris felt her lessen his grip on his hand, and he growled. "No, Astoria, do it now, push. Do what they say."

Astoria screamed again and Talli laughed. "That's it, m'lady, keep going, you're almost done!"

Fenris kissed her head and squeezed her hand. "Come, _mellita_."

Astoria wailed, pulling her hand from Lysander's and making a tight, white-knuckled fist in the sheets. Fenris kissed her knuckles, silently praying to whatever powers that be that all turned out fine.

Just as he thought he couldn't bear any more of Astoria's screaming, something shifted. Arlain and Talli gasped and Fenris saw an infant in Arlain's arms. Talli cut the cord and dropped a small blanket on the baby, wrapping it so that it would be warm.

Fenris heard Astoria sobbing, exhausted. But he couldn't look anywhere but at the infant in Arlain's arms.

"Is it -?" Fenris began, standing.

Astoria cried, "Is it alright? Healthy?"

Arlain nodded. "Yes, m'lady. Shall I clean-?"

"No, I want," she breathed, half-sobbing, "I want to hold..."

"Her, my lady. You have a girl."

Fenris smiled, and the little girl began to cry, more of a small, short whining than a full-out wail. "We have a girl," he said to Astoria, "a girl."

Lysander was wide-eyed, in awe of the child. Arlain moved towards them, and Fenris felt tears in his eyes. The baby girl had only a little hair, but it was light with no trace of gold in it, a pale silver. Her eyes were shut, but she squirmed in the blanket. Astoria scooted upwards, groaning in pain as she did so. Talli grinned at them from the bottom of the bed.

Arlain set the baby in Astoria's arms, as she cried and smiled, holding their new baby girl in her arms.

"Isn't she beautiful, Fenris?"

He was speechless. No longer anxious or fearful. They had a living daughter, now. And the lyrium... well, his fears were now mitigated, as far as he could tell. "She is," he replied after a moment, sounding choked and strained. Lysander rested his hand on the baby, staring at her in awe.

"What will you name her, mother?"

Astoria chuckled, tears falling down her face in streaks. "Your father and I still have to decide. Here, Fenris...?" She looked up at him, looking so exhausted and happy, her weary smile on her face.

He leaned forward and picked up the little girl, holding her gently as he stood and looked down on her, smiling. Fenris kissed the baby's head softly and ran his fingers down her cheek with a tenderness he did not even know he could achieve.

The baby squirmed in his arms, a tiny little thing, whining. "Shhhh," he whispered to the baby, "It's all right now." His daughter calmed slightly, seeming soothed at his voice. "It's all right."

He was a father. He had been a father, technically, for eleven years, but this was different. He loved Lysander, there was no doubting it. But holding a newborn and knowing that he would have a part in molding the baby into adulthood... it felt wonderful. Elation bloomed in his chest, joy and adrenaline coursing in his veins. This was the greatest gift in all the world, and it was his.

"You're beautiful," he told the baby, his voice strained and thick, and he wasn't sure if he was going to cry or dance or what. He looked up at Lysander. "Would you like to hold her?" Though he didn't want to give her away to anyone, not yet, not for a thousand years.

Lysander crawled out of bed and walked around towards him, green eyes wide and awestruck. "She's so little..." he breathed, holding out his arms.

"Support her neck," Fenris commanded softly, showing the boy how he was holding her, though he wasn't even sure that he was correct. But it was common sense, in the end, and Lysander held her just fine.

Time passed. Arlain and Talli cleaned up the baby girl and left them in the room, and Lysander soon went to sleep in his own room. It had taken some time for the baby to fall asleep, and before she had, Fenris had caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were teal, beautiful and striking. But it had only been a glimpse. As the child fell asleep, Fenris laid down on the bed with Astoria as she cradled their baby in her arms, moved into a silent, loving awe. Their daughter slept quietly, and Fenris was sure he had never seen anything so peaceful.

"What shall we name her?" He whispered, running his fingers tenderly on his daughter's head, feeling the soft, warm skin.

Astoria still had tears in her eyes. "She was conceived at sea. I think we must... remember that."

"You've thought of this before?" Fenris asked, planting a kiss on his wife's temple. The candlelight flickered dimly in the room, the fireplaces with a small, smoldering fire.

"Well, yes. But I did not know if she would survive."

Fenris took a deep breath. "I can't say I didn't think the same."

"So. The best I've come up with is... Esme, which means 'loved,' or Maris, which is 'of the sea,'" she said softly, looking up at him with love in her eyes.

Fenris smiled, an arm curled around her and the other running his knuckles up the blanketed baby. "I love both, and she is certainly loved. How about... Esmaris?"

Astoria chuckled, tears fresh welling in her blue eyes. "That's perfect," she breathed. "Esmaris." It rolled off her tongue like something sweet and beautiful.

"Welcome to our family, Esmaris," Fenris told the baby softly. "We love you already."

"She'll be something to behold, won't she?" Astoria asked. "She'll be a strong woman, intelligent, kind."

Fenris smiled and rested his head on her bosom, staring at Esmaris. "She'll be most magnificent, just like our son."

He had never felt anything so wonderful, so fulfilling and perfect. He was jealous of Astoria, to have felt it before, eleven years ago. It was an instantaneous thing, when Esmaris was born - the love he felt for the child. It saddened him that it was not originally so with Lysander, but he loved them both the same. Esmaris had a grip on his heart, and he knew that he would do anything for her, as he would for Astoria and Lysander.

A love so perfect, so deep and unconditional, that Fenris couldn't sleep that night. He stayed awake, wearily but elated, with his wife as they watched their newborn sleep.

"I have no idea how to raise an infant," he confessed softly, just before dawn broke.

Astoria chuckled quietly and looked at his bleary-eyed. "You'll prove yourself a wonderful father, I'm sure of it. You already have with our son."

He kissed her and settled back down on their bed, watching Esmaris with tenderness. It was such a beautiful thing. Fenris was ecstatic for this day, for every day to come, to watch such a small thing grow into a woman someday. There would be nothing greater, nothing better than doing so with his own wife and son at his side.

The sun broke over the treeline, bathing the world in its warmth, it's golden ribbon of grace. A blessing, a new day, a new world to wake up to. Somewhere in their fields, a wolf broke into a mournful howl, likely slinking off to its den to sleep. Fenris smiled, for their was no mourning in their home that night.

A new day, a new chance, a new world, a new blessing. The sunlight drifted into their windows. There was nothing greater than this day, this gift. Fenris smiled tenderly, and drifted off into deserved sleep, whispering "Esmaris, Esmaris, Esmaris."

_**The End.**_

* * *

><p>=)<p>

So. Where do I begin? Thank you, thank you, thank you a thousand times to all of you wonderful people that favorited, watched, read, and reviewed this story! Seriously. I cannot say it enough. I'd buy you all a bottle of wine and ship them to you, but alas, I have to make my first student loan payments next months.

_Kira Tamarion, Fallon-Idalia, WickedLullaby, Pint-sized She-Bear, csorciere, Thot84, spadequeen, arquise, Billini, PhoenixTheirin ThornlessRose12, Fenris's Lover, MikoAbigail, Dreister Deb, H3r3tic, Angels Poison, and Madame Lovely._ Seriously. You have all had such an impact in this story - motivation, inspiration, support. I could not have written this whole thing without your help and kind words. Those of you that started reading in the beginning, thank you especially for all your patience these past six months.

**What's next**, you ask? Next is a prequel, per Fallon-Idalia's idea. Then a sequel. While I will be writing this prequel, it might be a little while to get to. I have to study for both the GRE and MTEL, as well as rewrite my fantasy novel for NaNoWriMo (the story I lost on my old, broken laptop). But I love Fenris too much to stop writing about him, I promise. If you have an idea for a one-shot or a prompt you want me to fill for him, message me with it. I might just do it. =)

_THANK YOU ALL_. Truly. A thousand, million, billion times. I hope it was good enough for your time, thank you for sticking it out through a 200k word story, hahaha.

**EDIT - I also want to write a FenrisxF!Dovakiin (From Skyrim). Let me know if you like this idea.**


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